Little Talks
by CCNilesBabcock
Summary: "Nightmares had been a common occurrence since C.C.'s disappearance eight months ago, something Niles still blamed himself for. But now she's back, and very much alive." What could have possibly happened to C.C.? And will Niles be able to help her in this time of need? Read and find out!
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

Doctor Dana Langston practically dragged her tired body to the coffee machine at the end of the insipid hospital hallway. Keeping her eyes open after 72 hour-long shift had become a herculean task in itself, so a coffee was long overdue. She hissed at the overly-bright lights that illuminated the corridor, finding them abrasive enough to bring on one of her migraines. The extreme January cold didn't help to make her feel better, either – it crept under her clothes, spreading across her skin like the lacy tide on a frigid winter beach.

There was a blizzard raging outside, one so strong that the familiar sight of New York's dirty streets had been almost erased – actually, it was more like barely anything could be seen beyond the transparent double doors that were a few feet away from the coffee dispenser! Part of her wished to be snuggled under the warm covers of her bed, reading a book and having some hot cocoa, and thankfully enough, it wouldn't be long until that became a reality. She glanced at her battered wristwatch – a graduation gift from her late grandmother – and she clicked her tongue. It read 3:00 am, only half an hour left before she could go home...

Well, she'd probably have to wait until the blizzard had eased up before attempting to drive back to her apartment. No one in their right mind would dare to venture into the street on such a bleak night!

The smell of substandard coffee soon loitered inside the ward, and after tucking her change inside her pocket, Dana finally plopped herself down on one of the homogeneous plastic chairs that were lined against the dull beige walls. She focused her tired eyes on the flickering screen of the old TV set hanging from the ceiling; the commercials were on – they were short, attention grabbing and required no intellectual effort to be understood. If she was lucky, she'd be able to spend the last half hour of her shift sitting there, without needing to move. All her patients were stable and asleep, and there had been no emergency calls for a while now. Dana could already feel the pain of one of her tension headaches radiating around her entire head...

God, she _really_ needed a rest.

She allowed herself to close her eyes and lean her head against the wall behind her while she waited for the Tylenol she had taken a few minutes ago, to make effect. Yes... some peace and quiet and a few minutes with her eyes closed were exactly what she needed.

Dana had almost dozed off when she heard a faint rapping noise coming from nearby. The blows were paused and seemed to be progressively losing strength, and it took a second for her exhausted mind to even register that the noise was coming from the glass doors in front of her. She lazily stretched in her chair and opened her eyes...

The sight she came across with made the very much needed adrenaline course through her overworked body.

Just outside the doors, there was a blonde woman lying on the cold, hard ground. Judging by the intense shaking of her frail body, her blue lips and the lack of colour in her face, Dana was certain that the woman was hypothermic – which was not surprising considering she had ventured into the blizzard wearing only a robe, oversized flannel pyjamas, slippers and a robe. She did also look malnourished; Dana was simply horrified by how easy it was to distinguish the protruding bones that hid underneath the clothes she was wearing.

Immediately, the doctor sprung out of her chair and ran to the doors. She easily dragged the semi-conscious woman inside the hospital before swiftly peeling her own cardigan off her body to wrap the woman with it.

"Hannah!" Dana hollered, "Hannah, get your ass over here _immediately_!"

A petite, brown-haired nurse rushed into the ward only moments later, her hands still inside latex gloves. She gasped in horror when she spotted the poor woman in Doctor Langston's arms. "W-wha- what happened? Did she just get here?!"

"Yes, she did! She's hypothermic! Go get all the blankets you can lay your hands on! Then bring a stretcher and doctor Jacobs," Dana instructed as she looked for a pulse. She found it just as Hannah left to complete the tasks that had been bestowed upon her. It was weak and paused, but it was still there. _She_ was still there...

Diligently, Dana began the arduous process of attempting to save her patient's life. The first step was getting her out of her wet clothes, so she momentarily removed her warm cardigan from the woman's body and began removing her nightwear. Once the robe was off, her shoes and socks followed, but the moment she removed her pyjama pants, Dr Langston felt her soul dropping to her feet. There, imprinted on the woman´s pale skin, was a trail of bruises, abrasions and lacerations. They were everywhere! There was barely a portion of skin left untouched, not to mention the number of scars that could be easily seen! They climbed up her legs and torso, and the more clothes Dr Langston removed, the more injuries she found.

"Holy shit..." Dana muttered to herself, carefully covering her patient with her cardigan. "Who did this to you?"

The question had been more rhetorical than anything else – she certainly wasn't expecting a reply from a woman that had been out during a blizzard – hence her surprise at getting an answer. She couldn't quite understand what was said by the woman lying on her lap, but the fact that she was attempting to speak were good news. Dana cradled the frail woman in her arms, trying to use her own body heat to warm her up.

"Who are you, miss? Do you know where you are?" Dr Langston asked the woman, gently shaking her. She didn't get a coherent answer at first – it was anguishing to see her struggling to speak but mot managing it.

"B...Babcock," the woman eventually choked out, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "I... C.C. Babcock."

"Your name is C.C. Babcock?" the doctor queried again just as Hannah re-entered de ward, bringing lots of fluffy blankets and Dr Jacobs with her.

"Y-yes... I was k-kidnapped... 23rd of May..." C.C. whispered, closing her eyes again. She was exhausted and very much in pain, but at least she had reached safety…

She was finally safe…

Meanwhile, Dana's head was reeling. Had she just said 23rd of May?! That was a little over eight months ago! Good Lord… things were a lot worse than she had originally expected! They had to act fast – this woman's life was in their hands.

With Hannah's help, Dr Langston managed to slip a new pair of pyjamas on Miss Babcock's body and carefully lifted her on the stretcher and they covered her with the numerous blankets that Hannah had brought.

"Miss Babcock, please, open your eyes," Dana pleaded as she and Dr Jacobs began pushing the stretcher down the corridor. "You have to stay awake!"

But C.C. simply didn't listen.

She couldn't…

She was too injured to do anything else but lie there as she repeated the same words over and over again, "Call Niles... I... wanna... Niles..."

"Who is this person? Miss Babcock? Speak to me!" Dana ordered.

"Niles... Sheffield butler... I... need him...call Niles... I need Niles."

As she said those words, C.C. welcomed the darkness that was slowly consuming her. Her body was shutting down, she knew it, but at least she'd escaped from her very own hell. She was safe.

She could finally rest now.

Curiously enough – or perhaps, not curiously at all – Niles was the last thing in her mind's eye before losing the battle to remain conscious and falling into a deep, dark nothingness.

* * *

"C.C.!"

Niles's scream echoed inside his room as he jolted upright on his bed. His chest was heaving and he could feel droplets of cold sweat making their way down his back. It took him a few seconds for the last remnants of his dream to fade away, giving way for reality to sink in. Not that he preferred reality, for that matter…

Nowadays reality was even worse than his nightmares, which were common occurrences since C.C.'s disappearance eight months ago. It was always the same nightmare, and not even waking up was enough to find refuge from the anguish and the guilt. The latter was a weight tied to his heart, and every day that went past without C.C., resulted in his burden becoming even heavier.

He would have never believed that there would come a day when he'd blame himself for the disappearance of the love of his life…

The last time he had Miss Babcock was right after he'd woken up in a hospital bed after his heart attack. He remembered pranking her the moment she entered his room, and it hadn't been long before she flounced out of it (after having smacked him with the bouquet of flowers she had bought for him, of course).

Her indignation had been soothing (and deliciously entertaining) to him, but his gloating hadn't lasted for long – as a matter of fact, smugness had been replaced by worry when C.C. Babcock vanished from the face of this Earth!

No one had known what had happened to her nor where she was, and as days bled into weeks and then months, Niles could only hope for a miracle. Every day he prayed to see her standing at the other side of the door, wearing one of her haughty smiles and looking as radiant as the sun. He prayed to hear her sultry laugh and to smell her sweet Chanel No. 5. He prayed for a chance to be able to hold her close one more time.

Guilt was eating him up from the inside out, just like a raging fire would engulf a piece of dry wood. It scorched the little hope that his heart was desperately trying to hold on to. He had cried over her so many times, he had wanted to scream and kick and scratch until she reappeared... but she hadn't.

Niles glanced at the small photograph of her that lay on his bedside table – she looked so beautiful… with her smiling face as the gentle rays of the sun bounced from her golden locks. He'd sell his soul for the possibility of seeing her again…

The possibility of rescuing here…

 _Suddenly, a phone rang._

He was startled by the sudden noise in the otherwise silent room. He considered not answering – he was certainly not in the mood to talk to anyone – but his sense of duty ended up winning for the day. So he reached out and took hold of the phone. Who on Earth was calling at this time of the night?!

"Sheffield residence?" he rasped.

"Yes, hello, my name is Doctor Dana Langston, from Lennox Hill hospital. Am I speaking with Niles Brightmore?"

Niles's heart skipped a beat. "Yes, this is him speaking."

"Excellent. You are listed as C.C. Babcock's emergency contact, and we need you to come down immediately."

Had Niles been standing up, he would have collapsed onto the ground. He could feel the bottom of his stomach dropping and cold sweat running down his back. "Did you just say C.C. Babcock? She is there?! W-what happened to her?"

There was a silence at the other side of the line for some seconds. It was almost as if Dr Langston was gearing herself up for what she had to say…

God… please… let her be alright!

"Yes, she's been admitted here. She arrived barely two hours ago, by foot and severely hypothermic. We don't really know what happened to her, but I must insist on you coming here before we discuss her medical condition. The good news is that she's alive."

Niles dropped the phone to the floor, pearly-shaped tears gliding down his wrinkled face. His head was swimming, and a thousand and one questions presented themselves in his mind.

 _She was alive._

Alive, but clearly unwell, a little voice in the back of his mind added, but right then he couldn't bring himself to listen to it.

She needed him, and for now that was the only thing that mattered.

* * *

 **AN: Well, hello there! I have begun another story :) It's slightly darker than what I usually write, but I promise it will be worth your time! Anyway, this story is dedicated to two of my dearest friends: Hannah and Dana.**

 **That being said, I must say goodbye until the next chapter!**

 **I'd truly appreciate reviews!**

 **L.**


	2. Vanished

_**Chapter 1**_

 _ **Vanished**_

"Go to Hell!" she barked at the smirking butler lying on the hospital bed.

C.C. Babcock left Niles' room slamming the door behind her, not wanting to hear his reply. To say that she was angry was a gross understatement – she was positively furious! She'd had the worst couple of days of her life, been worried sick for that miserable excuse of a human being, had saved his life... and how had he thanked her?

By pranking her.

The zingers, the jokes, the quips and smart cracks – that, she could bear. But what she hadn't been able to abide, was that Niles had broken one of the unspoken rules between them. Neither of them had any qualms about tormenting each other under normal circumstances, but C.C. had thought that they had a wordless agreement about coming to a ceasefire whenever one of them was seriously down.

 _'Well, apparently not,_ ' the producer thought as she walked down the hospital hallway while rummaging through her Chanel purse for her cigarettes. What enraged C.C. further was just how upset his heart attack had made her, and she couldn't quite understand why! Niles was her declared nemesis, for crying out loud! And yet she had been terrified of losing him. It was the height of irony; she, C.C. Babcock, powerful socialite and businesswoman, had cried over a servant that didn't give a damn about her.

Part of her knew – or, well, believed – that their dynamic had changed over the last months. It was as though the zingers were more playful than before, less hateful, and sometimes they had even been a twisted way of flirting. She and Niles had been getting closer, had gone out on one or two dates, had danced together... and the first thing he did after his brush with death was prank her?!

It was evident that Niles didn't care about her, not like she had thought he did. Perhaps it had all been an invention of her mind, and the softness she had believed to see in his deep, blue eyes had been but mere wishful thinking...

She didn't know.

She didn't care.

Not anymore.

 _This was war_. Plain and simple. He had woken up a monster that she had unconsciously started to bury deep within her, and now he'd have hell to pay. C.C. was determined to make him just as bitter as she was; to make him feel just as miserable as she was. She would erect taller and thicker walls around her, and she'd attack him with no mercy...

He would never hurt her again; she wouldn't allow it.

The blonde sighed in relief when the entrance door came in sight – she needed to get out of there, and she needed to do it fast. Not that she would admit it to anyone, but she knew that if she'd stayed in that room for longer, she'd have probably ended up crying again. No, she needed to go home, pour herself one or two glasses of her best Scotch, and snuggle under the warm covers of her bed until she felt better. Perhaps she could take a nice vacation abroad – she'd need them now that Nanny Fine was dating Maxwell – or maybe she could pay a visit to her mother's summer mansion in California. She'd see...

Only after tossing the almost empty pack of cigarettes back into her purse, did the blonde socialite realise she had forgotten her wallet in Niles' room. She debated herself if she should go and get it back, but her wounded pride wouldn't allow her to even step a foot into the butler's room. She wouldn't be able to stand the scornful sneer lighting up his face like the silvery incandescence of a lightning illuminates the dark sky during a storm. No, she'd rather walk the many blocks that separated her from her penthouse than going back to that blasted room.

" _Perfect_. Just perfect," she grumbled as soon as she noticed the tell-tale black clouds of an upcoming storm. Knowing her luck, she'd probably be halfway to her penthouse when the storm had commenced... Could this day get any worse?

Cursing under her breath, C.C. began the long way back home, taking long drags on her cigarette every once in a while. It was strange, or rather, she _felt_ strange. She wasn't ablaze with anger anymore – no, it was as though that anger was slowly morphing into a profound and gloomy sadness. Her chest was heavy, and C.C. had the odd feeling that her heart had just been used as a punching bag. The urge to cry had come back full force, and the only thing that C.C. wanted to do, was curl up into a little ball and allow Earth to swallow her whole.

The producer came to a halt, allowing her arms to fall limply to her sides. Why was she feeling that way? Why did _he_ make her feel that way? The hurt of his actions had nestled itself in her heart, and it was slowly spreading through her soul like a deadly virus.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair at all! She wasn't supposed to be vulnerable; she wasn't supposed to care about him... Yet she did. And it fucking hurt.

Her emotions were fighting an open war against each other – anger wanted to hate Niles, to device a million and one schemes to make his life miserable; sadness wanted to cry, to scream and kick until there wasn't a single tear left in her body; fear constantly reminded her of how close she had been to losing him, and that she actually cared for the man that she had openly claimed to despise for over ten years...

None of them could win, and the internal battle didn't allow C.C. to think clearly. Just like Artax, Atreyu's horse in 'The Never Ending Story', C.C. felt she was slowly drowning in – good God, how sickeningly _cliché_ it sounded – a swamp of sadness. It was as though her soul was slowly sinking into a formless nothing; a black pit of confusion and abstract fears... The despair she was currently experiencing was truly unparalleled, and the blonde wondered if she'd ever be able to understand what had brought this reaction.

As much as she wanted to blame her altered emotional state on seeing Nanny Fine and Maxwell snogging, a nagging voice that sounded awfully like Niles', told her that the sadness she was feeling was linked to the annoying butler rather than to Maxwell and Nanny Fine.

God, she desperately needed a drink... C.C. had never been good with feelings, much less when it came to facing/interpreting/explaining/ dealing with her own. She'd rather drink herself to stupor before even considering analysing her own feelings.

So lost was C.C. in her musings, that she didn't see the big man coming towards her, holding a coffee and a muffin in his hands. The pair impacted against each other, and soon his coffee was spilled on C.C.'s lovely light-blue jacket...

Yes. This day _could_ get, and actually _had_ gotten, worse.

The producer stared down at her coffee-stained clothes before glaring daggers at the gaping man before her. He had turned a deep shade of crimson, and part of C.C. only wanted to scream at the man before continuing her way home. Perhaps she could vent some of the anger that was still burning inside her...

"I am so sorry, Miss!" the man apologised. "I didn't see you!"

"I realised that," C.C. hissed, pushing the man aside to continue her way.

"Wait, Miss, don't go. Let me give you money for the dry cleaner!"

The blonde scoffed and sneered at the man. She didn't need his money, she just needed a freakin' break – from work, from this day, from life...

And a drink, she _definitely_ needed a drink.

"I don't need your money, you birdbrain! Now, if you'd move out of my way so I could continue my walk home, I'd be really thankful."

Come to think of it, she didn't really feel like screaming or throwing a fit right then, she was far too tired for that. What C.C. wanted was to get home, and yelling at the man would only delay so. However, had C.C. been looking at him instead of being worried about fixing her jacket, she would have noticed the dangerous flash of anger that crossed his eyes. It was there only for a moment, but it was enough for his features to harden and his attitude to shift slightly.

"Well then, let me drive you home! It's the least I can do after having ruined your clothes."

C.C. thought about saying no; she thought about laughing in the man's face and flouncing away. But not because she had detected the faint lowering of his voice or due to his penetrating stare, but rather because she was still too caught up in her own anger. The idea finally proved to be a temptation she couldn't resist – it was about to rain, she was far from her penthouse and her clothes were ruined... a car ride was the best thing that could happen to her at the moment. Besides, the man looked decent enough – he was just a few years older than her, was clad in a clean suit and didn't really look threatening...

"Well, I believe I can accept your help then," she finally conceded and the pair proceed to walk towards the man's car, which was parked a few meters ahead of them. Again, C.C. didn't notice the dangerous smirk that was playing across his thin lips, nor the slight tensing of his body – her mind was too busy going over the events of the past hours and envisioning the nice glass of scotch that she'd soon be enjoying.

"By the way, I didn't present myself," the man suddenly said as he opened the car door for her. "My name is Thomas. We actually wor-"

"Alright, alright," the blonde waved a dismissive hand. She wasn't in the mood to fake interest in him or to be polite. The last thing she cared about, was his name or who he was; he was just a mere dunce who conveniently had a car and could take her home. Period. "Let's get moving."

They didn't talk during the car ride apart from when C.C. gave Thomas her address, so she just limited herself to stare outside the window. Her mind was soon miles away, hence her not noticing the strange turns he was giving nor that they were actually getting farther away from their supposed destination. Only halfway to their actual destination did C.C. realise something wasn't quite right – she had never gone through that route before... could he possibly be lost?

A sudden feeling of dread and of being in danger washed over the blonde socialite, and the more they ventured into that road, the harder her heart beat. Normally, C.C. would have reacted; screamed and demanded that the man either turned around or stopped the car, but she just couldn't find her voice... Cold sweat ran down her back as she discretely unbuckled her seatbelt and pressed her purse to her body.

"I think I will get off here, thank you," she muttered when they came across a stop sign.

If C.C. hadn't felt endangered she would have never dared to step a foot out of the car in that neighbourhood, but now the dirty and empty streets around her felt a lot more safe than remaining inside that car.

To her surprise, Thomas did pull over and stopped the car. C.C., however, reacted a second too late. Had she been more alert, she would have had time to jump out of the car and to run back to safety, but that extra second that it took for her to reach the handle, sealed her destiny.

It's funny how tiny little moments like this are the ones that mark a difference, and C.C. was going to learn so the hard way.

Before she realised what was happening, the man violently pressed a white cloth over her nose and mouth while he used his free arm to bring her body to his. The stench of chloroform soon climbed into her nostrils, and the effects were immediate – her extremities began to go numb, then her vision and hearing began to fail... she knew unconsciousness was only seconds away. That didn't mean she didn't fight back – quite the opposite, in fact. Adrenaline coursed through her body, and C.C. could feel the primal surge to flee giving her the strength that she needed to kick, scratch and even try to punch her attacker. Curiously enough, as she fought, C.C. could hear a familiar voice in her head screaming at her to fight; it was dry and had a marked British accent, and it desperately pleaded that she fought until the very end.

 _"Try harder, kick harder... Come on, Babcock, be the man I know you are!"_ it said encouragingly. C.C. knew it was a mere invention of her mind, but she prayed that it would staye with her until she'd closed her eyes.

And then it happened...

Overall, the struggle lasted just a few seconds – she never really stood a chance – but she gave a bloody good fight. Just a mere instant before complete unconsciousness had set in, C.C. looked into her captor's grey eyes, and what she saw in them made her realise that whatever it was that he had in mind would change her life forever.


	3. The Cellar

**_Chapter 2_**

 ** _The Cellar_**

 _Plop. Plop. Plop._

That was the annoying noise C.C. kept hearing as she slowly awoke. Part of her wanted to open her eyes so as to try and find the source of the dripping noise to put a stop to it, but she was just too weak... Her body felt heavy – as though weights had been tied to her extremities – her head was pounding and she was suffering from a persistent nausea. It probably was just a bad hangover, she thought to herself, and she'd soon open her eyes to find herself on her bed with an empty bottle of scotch lying by her side.

 _Plop. Plop. Plop._

But wait... If she was in her room, then where was that strange noise coming from? It sounded like water dripping from a faucet or a pipe, and if she was in her room that noise shouldn't be possible. Perhaps it was coming from the bathroom?

 _Plop. Plop. Plop._

Her slow waking mind began to register her surroundings, although she still had her eyes closed. She could feel she was lying on a mushy surface, but it didn't feel like her own mattress... It didn't smell like her room, either, for around her there was a slightly unpleasant musty smell – her room smelled of jasmine and coconut, or at least those were the fragrances Angelica used to perfume her bedroom whenever she cleaned it. It was also quite dark, she could tell so by the perceivable lack of natural light around her – was it night already?

 _Plop. Plop. Plop._

There was something else... a smell that wasn't exactly coming from the room where she was in but rather from under her nose... It was as though the smell was stuck to the inside of her nostrils, and it was making her slightly sleepy. The blonde supposed it could be some type of chemical, but _what-_

"No!" C.C. shrieked the moment she opened her eyes and jolted upright. Memories from the last _hours? Days? Minutes?_ Were swarming back into her mind, and as C.C. finally understood where she probably was, a desperate wail left her trembling lips.

Now she remembered. _She had been_ _kidnapped_.

Her eyes took a while to get accustomed to the darkness that engulfed the small room in which she was in, but she eventually spotted a little desk lamp by the side of the raggedy mattress she was sitting on. She turned it on with trembling hands, allowing the soft, warm light to illuminate her prison. The feeling of claustrophobia hit her like a ton of bricks – the room was 7 square meters at most, it had no windows and no doors, and the little furniture was strategically placed to make it look even smaller than it really was. The mattress was located against one of the walls, and right in front of it there was a toilet and a sink – now she realised where that annoying plopping noise was coming from. There was a small table and a chair against the opposite wall, a transparent plastic drawer that contained some clothes lay next to them. There were some books piled next to her mattress, but C.C. didn't feel like going through what would probably be her only distraction for the foreseeable future. She spotted her reading glasses lying on the table, right next to a little note pad.

The room – with its pristine white walls and hard concrete floor – was maddeningly asphyxiating; in there she could have no idea of how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was perversely disorientating by design, and the isolation was total – sound and natural light were as foreign to that room as poverty was for C.C.. What irked her the most was the deafening silence that swelled inside the room. It almost felt physical, as though she could touch it with her bare hands, and it seeped into her pores, drenching her in its thick toxicity.

C.C. had the feeling that a person could forget their own name if they spent enough time in that room, and she feared that would be her case.

Until then, the producer had never appreciated the simple things in life such as the sun, the blue sky or the pleasant breeze that entangled her golden locks… but now, the memory of those trifles had become almost precious. She didn't know when she'd see the light of day again or even _if_ she would survive the week, so her only consolation now were mere memories.

Despair coursed her body, making her feel that ice, instead of blood, ran through her veins. Fear was there, too, making her blood thunder in her ears and her heart beat wildly against her chest...

But she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't allow herself to show any weakness to her captor – wherever he was. She wouldn't allow herself to crack or to let her sanity slip through her fingers; she was determined to fight. C.C. tentatively stood up, and again looked around the room, trying to find the entrance. At first glance, the room looked just like a hollow concrete cube, but soon C.C. discovered there was a little trap door on the ceiling. She couldn't reach it, of course, for it was obvious that she'd need a small ladder to get to it.

The moment she moved slightly forward was when she noticed the shackle tied to her right ankle and chained to the hard concrete floor. The chain was long enough for her to move comfortably around the room, but it made an attempt to escape completely impossible. She did also discover – much to her horror – that she was no longer using the clothes in which she had been kidnapped; now she wore an oversized T-shirt that reached her kneecaps, grey sweatpants, was barefoot and the red nail polish she had been using had been removed from both her fingernails and toenails.

Of all the horrible things she had learnt in the past minutes, this was probably the worst. C.C. felt violated at the thought of her attacker removing her clothes and dressing her up with his own. She felt dehumanised when she discovered he hadn't even let her keep her nails coloured, and she felt like a wild animal now that she was chained.

 _This was Hell._

C.C. fell back onto the mattress and curled up in a ball, sobs shaking her body. To hell with being strong! No one could see her right then, so she might as well release the anguish that was suffocating her. The producer felt like a scared child, and she had a desperate urge to call for her father; she remembered that, when she was little and had a nightmare, Stewart would always sit on the edge of her bed and would stroke her hair until she'd fallen asleep again... How she wished he could do that now!

 _"Don't cry, Babcock, you'll melt!"_ the familiar British voice suddenly said, surprising C.C. by how clearly it sounded in her head. _"You have to be strong."_

Yes, she had to be strong, but could she do it? The memory of his voice – although it was somewhat of a consolation – only enhanced her despair... Her last words to him had been "Go to Hell", and she didn't know if she'd ever see Niles again.

But wait... _Why_ was she thinking about _him_? This was his fault! If he hadn't pranked her she would have never left the hospital or been kidnapped!

"This is your fault, leave me alone," she muttered to herself, praying that that voice would shut up.

 _"Never, Babs, I am part of you. Always was, always will be._ " the voice retorted.

"Go to Hell..." she wheezed, the memory of his bright blue eyes and cheeky smile piercing her heart like bullets.

 _"I am already there... with you. I'll endure it with you."_

"Leave me alone!" she yelled, slamming her fist against the ground. Why was his voice the one she heard? Why had her twisted mind decided that his was the voice that she needed to hear? She hated him! Yet – in an almost masochistic sense – Niles' voice brought a faint sense of relief that she desperately needed.

 _How. Bloody. Ironic._

"Why is this happening to me?" the blonde whimpered, pressing her palms against her puffy eyes.

"Because I chose you," a third voice responded.

C.C. could feel her body stiffen when the slimy voice of her kidnapper echoed inside the tiny room. She hadn't realised when the man had opened the trap door over her, and she certainly didn't know for how long he had been observing her.

"Sit up and face me," he ordered as he descended into her prison via a ladder he had brought with him.

C.C. could almost hear the smile in his voice, and a blind rage filled her heart. Who did he think he was?! He might have locked her up, but if he thought he would order her around, then he was very wrong. The producer stood up but refused to look into his eyes, choosing to stare at the concrete floor instead.

"I said, sit and face me," Thomas said, a hint of anger in his voice. She could feel him standing beside her, and the smell of his overly-sweet cologne was making her even more nauseous than she already was.

"Fuck you," she hissed, still not obeying him.

This didn't last for long, though, for the man yanked at her hair and gripped her throat with his other hand. C.C. didn't even have time to yelp in surprise, for the man slammed her against the wall, hard, forcing the producer to look directly into his enraged grey eyes.

"You are to speak to your superior with respect. Now, sit down or there will be consequences."

The moment he let her go C.C. charged against him, kicking and punching and slapping every bit of skin she found. No man had ever put a hand on her, and this bastard was not going to be the exception. "Get your filthy hands off me, perverted son of a b-"

"Enough!" he bellowed, pushing her body to the floor. She tried to stand, but he forced her down by pressing his knee to her back and held her hands with his. "I see you still don't understand your place, bitch, and you've earned yourself a punishment. You will not be fed for the following week," he declared, letting her go so he could get out of the cellar. "We'll see if you are as nervy when you are starved."

"I'd rather not eat for two weeks than be polite to you!" she spat, using her sleeve to clean the stream of blood that was coming from her nose.

"Then two weeks it will be!"

The next thing she heard was the heavy trap door being locked and the sound of her laboured breathing echoing inside the room, marking the beginning of her long confinement.


	4. Evidence

_**Evidence**_

"I'll get it, sir," said Niles when the buzzer of the extension phone went off. The butler scooped it up almost desperately, as though expecting to hear a very special someone's voice at the other end of the line...

Well, he was.

A fortnight, twelve hours and sixteen minutes had passed since Niles had last seen C.C. Babcock. The last time his eyes had been graced by the sight of the zealous producer had been when she had stormed out of his hospital room. He recalled she had been livid, and the last thing she had said to him was "Go to Hell". His answer had been a half-hearted "I'll see you when I get there" and now – seeing as no one had the faintest of clues about what could her current whereabouts be – guilt and worry were like a stain that couldn't be removed from his heart, no matter how hard he tried to scrub it off.

On the beginning he hadn't been alarmed by her absence or the fact that she hadn't visited him anymore (it had stung a little, though), but when she hadn't come to work last week he had begun to worry. C.C. had never missed a day of work in the fifteen years that Niles had known her, so this attitude was – to say the least – unusual. He had called both her penthouse phone and cell phone hundreds of times, but she had never answered – as a matter of fact, whenever he had called her mobile phone he had always reached the voicemail.

He had gone to her penthouse after a week of stony silence from her part, and it had been then when Niles had discovered that C.C. had vanished into thin air. It was obvious that no one had been in her penthouse for a couple of days because the bed was made, the blinds were closed and just over the table lay one of his feather dusters – the one C.C. had carried around when he was at the hospital. The idea of her taking a vacation had briefly crossed his increasingly worried mind, but he had quickly discarded it when he found her passport in one of her drawers and when he remembered that she had never dropped by the mansion to retrieve the wallet she had forgotten in his hospital room. So, in conclusion, all evidence had suggested that whatever was it that had happened to her, wasn't good at all.

Niles had squeezed his brain to try and remember if C.C. had mentioned an upcoming business trip or a family reunion that she had had to attend to, but the more he had tried to remember, the more he had realised there was nothing to be remembered at all... He felt as though he was trying to grab onto sand tightly, and he had finally come to the unsettling conclusion that he would have to report her missing. The very thought of doing so had made Niles sick to the stomach, but he knew that if she was in trouble, the longer he delayed going to the police, the more her chances of being found would decrease. For all he knew, she could already be in another state by now or even in another country! It was absolutely terrifying. So, eventually – and after having informed both Maxwell and Stewart Babcock about what he thought was going on – Niles had gone to the police station and had reported her missing.

The news of the prominent producer's disappearance had spread like fire, and the story had soon been bastardised. By the end of the week it was being said that C.C. had been abducted by a maniac and that she was probably never going to be seen again – of course, neither of them knew that they were partially correct. The Babcock family was being persecuted by paparazzi and (to anyone's surprise) B.B. Babcock had been the first member of the family to concede an interview to the press. The woman had acted desperate in front of the cameras, crying for her daughter's safe return home, but once the press had left and the distressed family had been left alone, B.B.'s crying had come to an abrupt halt. This attitude had shocked Niles, for he just couldn't understand how a mother could behave like B.B. did; nevertheless he knew that in her own selfish way, B.B. did love C.C., and that she was convinced that the police would eventually find her daughter. After all, they were looking for a prominent citizen, how could she _not_ re-appear?

Of course, the rest of C.C.'s family members, the Sheffields and Niles weren't so sure that there would be a positive outcome... Not that they didn't want her to return, quite the opposite, but they were realistic. If C.C. had truly been kidnapped and her captor still hadn't contacted them to ask for a ransom, then it was evident that the aim behind her abduction wasn't financial gain but a far more perverse one.

Both Noel and Stewart were the two members of her family who were truly broken by the difficult situation they were facing; Niles had seen both of them spending hours at the police station, discussing details of C.C.'s life with the many detectives that had been assigned to the case. Neither of them could stay for long in the city, though, so Stewart – in a surprising twist of events – had bestowed the responsibility of handling the investigation on Niles. The butler was to periodically talk to the police, be on the lookout for new clues and, if there was a new lead on the case, he was to call the Babcocks immediately. He had been surprised by Stewart choosing him over Maxwell to be in charge, and when he had asked the desperate man about the motives behind this, Stewart simply looked at him, smiled and said:

 _"Because you were the first person who noticed her absence. And because I know C.C. trusts you."_

He hadn't offered further explanations, and Niles had been so stunned by his words that he had been rendered speechless. Hence why the butler had been on the lookout for any potential clues and didn't allow anyone to answer the phone but him since he had been put in charge.

Anyway, as the police hadn't called in some days, Niles wasn't really expecting the call he was about to engage in to be related to the case, but once again life proved him wrong...

Taking the ringing phone in his trembling hands, the butler cleared his throat and finally answered the call. "Sheffield residence."

"Hello, Niles, this is detective Lane," a familiar feminine voice said from the other end, making Niles' heart skip a beat. "There has been and advancement, and we need you to come down by the station."

Niles suddenly felt the room in which he was in had shrunk and that there was a dangerous lack of oxygen in it. He had to support his weight against the wall so as not to collapse onto the ground; there was a clue? Could this mean they would find her soon? Was it good? Or perhaps...

No. He couldn't allow himself to even think about the possibility of her never coming back. He couldn't allow himself to lose hope just yet... Again he pushed his all-consuming guilt to the back of his mind, where he would keep it contained until he had a few moments alone. Guilt was always there, like an itch on the back of his mind, constantly reminding him that he was responsible for what had happened. Of course everybody had told him that this wasn't his fault; that he couldn't have known what was going to happen, but to him it didn't matter. Things had only been made worse when Niles had been told that C.C. had actually saved his life, which had made him feel like an even bigger asshole for having tortured her since the moment he had opened his eyes. He hadn't meant for any of this to happen! He had pranked her out of habit – not to mention that he had been high on meds – but if he had known for a second that it would lead to her disappearance, he would have never done it...

But, as the saying goes, _what's done is done_. He couldn't change the past, but he could take an active part on trying to fix the mess he had created. That's why he was forcing himself to be strong, for the mere thought of the unimaginable happening to her due to his prank was enough to drive him insane with guilt and sorrow. He loved the woman, there was no point in denying it anymore, and if she needed help to return, then no force on the face of this Earth would prevent him from finding her. He would turn every rock, venture into every cave, visit every house and climb every mountain if that's what it took to find her – he wouldn't rest until C.C. Babcock was safely back home.

And God forbid that he managed to put his hands on her attacker, for the damage he would inflict on that person would surely put him in jail.

"Alright, detective Lane, I'll be there in some minutes," he said and ended the call, not wanting to waste any more precious minutes.

The butler practically dashed to Maxwell's office and opened the door with a loud bang, startling a worried Maxwell out of his thoughts. The British producer hadn't really shown the depth of his concern for C.C.'s situation, but knowing him, Niles was certain that his childhood friend was a lot more worried than he let on. It had been the same with Sarah's death – he had bottled up his feelings, hidden the extent of his sadness from the rest of his family and had suffered in silence. Niles knew that the man – although not romantically – did love C.C., and her disappearance had been a hard blow for Maxwell to bear. More so when he had finally decided to try for a relationship with Fran... Now the couple couldn't afford to try and be happy for their newfound love, it just didn't feel right, given the circumstances.

C.C.'s disappearance was like a storm; one of those storms that bring with it foreboding black clouds of the many thunders and lightings that would soon flog the tranquil Earth. It was like one of those storms that caused gloom and a sense of unease to nestle inside one's heart. But the peculiarity of this storm was that they couldn't protect themselves from the pain of C.C. being missing; there wasn't an umbrella to stop them from being soaked to the bone with sadness... They were helpless, adrift, and the only thing that they could do was face the storm, even if they were painfully unprepared.

"Sir? I've been asked by detective Lane to go down to the station beca-"

"They found a new clue?!" Maxwell exclaimed, bouncing out of his seat. "Did they tell you anything about it?"

Niles shook his head, and the tiny spark of hope that had been ignited in Maxwell's eyes was swiftly killed. "No, sir, they didn't tell me... I will go down and see what they have, alright?"

"Of course! Feel free to go, and don't even worry about tonight's dinner, we'll just order in," Maxwell mumbled, ushering him out of the office.

Now that he had put his boss abreast of the new developments, the butler rushed to the entrance, took his coat from the hanger and exited the house. He chose to walk to the station, for it was only a few blocks away from the mansion, and also because it would give him time to school his altered emotions. Just like what happened every time there was a new lead, Niles' heart was about to burst out of his chest, and his mind was a chaotic jumble of thoughts... He had to be focused, he chastised himself – he couldn't allow his emotions to distract him from his task.

By the time he had arrived to the station, he spotted detective Lauren Lane awaiting for him at the door. The tall, grey-haired woman was one of the best detectives in Manhattan, and it gave Niles a certain sense of tranquillity to know that the case was in capable hands. Lauren had given him her phone number as soon as he had been put in charge by Stewart, and the detective constantly updated him if there was a new lead or an advancement in the case.

Tossing her almost empty Starbucks coffee into a trashcan, the detective waved a hand at Niles as the butler went up the stairs that separated him from the entrance to the police station. "Hello, Niles, I've got some news for you," the woman said as she walked into the building with Niles hot on her heels. The middle-aged woman had a no-nonsense attitude, and if there was something detective Lane detested, was losing time.

"Are they good or bad?" he asked.

"Depends on how you look at them," Lane replied, pushing the door of an interrogation room open. Niles spotted a brown cardboard box laying on the table, and it had the word 'EVIDENCE' written with red marker on one of the sides. The butler gulped... _Evidence?_ Could that mean that…?

"We have a witness," the detective said, plopping herself down on one of the metal chairs that were laid against the table. "A woman saw C.C. getting into a car. She was being accompanied by a tall, dark-haired man. Apparently, she saw the suspect and C.C. bumping against each other and as the suspect was holding a cup of coffee, it spilled all over Miss Babcock's clothes. According to the witness, the suspect offered to take her home and C.C. supposedly accepted," the detective made a small pause as she took the cardboard box in her hands and retrieved a two transparent evidence bags from it. "These were also found in an alley of a low-class neighbourhood; we didn't find any form of identification inside the purse, but it matches the description of what she was wearing the day of her disappearance."

Niles felt he was about to be sick. There, lying in front of him, were C.C.'s coffee-stained light-blue blouse and the black dress pants she had been wearing when she had visited him at the hospital. Right next to them was her distinctive Chanel purse – he would have recognised it anywhere. He fruitlessly tried to stop the tears from prickling at the corners of his eyes, but the sight in front of him proved to be too much for his delicate emotional state to bear.

Rationally, Niles had known C.C. was probably being held against her will, but there was a tiny part of him that still clinched to the childish hope of this just being a prank... Part of him had hoped her to eventually appear at the other side of the door, a smug grin on her face for having successfully scared him half to death. But now...

 _Now_ there was absolutely no doubt that this nightmare was very much real.

Niles Brightmore wasn't a man who cried easily, but this new revelation simply broke him, and the only thing he could do was cry. The walls he had built around him came tumbling down, brick by brick, pebble by pebble, washed away by his tears. His heart wrenching wails punched through, the rawness of a fresh open wound evident in them, and the blinding pain he was feeling came from deep within him like an uproar. The world around him ceased to exist, it became but a mere formless grey scenery that surrounded him; he didn't care nor did he remember where he was or what he was doing there – the only thing that currently existed was pain.

This was his fault, and God knows if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for what he had done...

Well, if she didn't return, he was certain he would never do so.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 4**_

 _ **A Suspect**_

"Mr Brightmore? Are you quite alright?" Detective Lane asked, waving her hand before Niles' eyes. "You zoned out..."

The butler – who until then had been sat staring at the many pictures that were displayed in front of him – looked up at Lauren, and nodded.

Two weeks had gone past since C.C.'s clothes had been found, and although many feared that the producer had already been murdered, the police was working harder than ever before in order to find her. Many interrogations had already been carried out, but none of them had taken the investigators a step closer to finding C.C..

Niles had also given the police uncountable names of people who knew the producer, and he had even detailed all those he knew held a personal grudge against her – and there were many of them, mind you.

Niles had racked his brains to try and think of any detail that could be of importance to the case, but eventually he had begrudgingly accepted that there was nothing else he could contribute to the case apart from being at the investigators disposition – it was now up to the police to try and find the producer with the scarce clues they already had.

The butler was still pretty shaken by the appearance of her coffee-stained clothes. That had made it painfully obvious that someone had taken the producer against her will, which meant she was in trouble. But this person had perpetrated the kidnapping with such finesse, that they hadn't left even the tiniest bit of evidence behind. There had been no mistakes, no false steps. They had successfully managed to make the producer vanish into thin air, and sometimes – on his dark days – Niles couldn't help but to wonder if they'd ever find this person...

That's why Lane's call had surprised him. Apparently, thanks to the eyewitness that had been found barely two weeks ago, a facial composite of the supposed abductor had been sketched, and it had been collated with the many pictures of suspects, C.C.'s co-workers, friends, acquaintances and enemies. This had narrowed the search down to ten possible men that fit the description, so Niles had been called in that afternoon to see if he recognised any of the possible kidnappers.

Detective Lane had spread the different photographs on her desk, and the butler had been asked to inspect them with care. Although he did recognise some of the men on the pictures, there was one in particular that had caught his attention.

The photo showed a tall dark-haired man called Thomas Jones. He was one of Sheffield Productions stage managers and he'd seemed like a decent guy; however, on the rare occasions when Niles had spoken to him – once or twice after he had dropped C.C. or Mr Sheffield off at the theatre – Niles had sensed there was something off about him. What made this man even more special, however, was that he had developed a crush on Miss Babcock. Niles remembered C.C. had mentioned there was an annoying stage manager that insisted on inviting her out even though she had made it perfectly clear she was not interested in him. Naturally, Niles remembered he had teased C.C. about how only weirdos would pay her any attention, but now the butler couldn't help but wonder if this man had done something drastic due to the producer's rejection.

"Uh... sorry Lauren, I... I guess I got too caught up," Niles finally answered the detective, taking Thomas' picture in his hands.

"I take this guy has called your attention, hasn't he?" Lauren said as she gathered the rest of the pictures and arranged them in a neat pile.

"You could say so... I remember Miss Babcock commenting about him making advances at her even after she'd turned him down," the butler paused, trying to find the most tactful way to word his next statement. Not to get him wrong, he was suspicious of Thomas, but inviting a woman out after several rejections didn't necessarily mean the man was a kidnapper. "I've talked to him on a few occasions, and... well..."

"Something about him made you slightly uneasy, am I correct?" Lauren deadpanned, drawing a cigarette from the sturdy cigarette tin that she was holding.

"Yes, I guess you could say so. I can't exactly point out what was it that bugged me about him, though."

Detective Lane nodded softly as she took a long drag on her cigarette, filling her lungs to the brim with nicotine. This case was consuming her; she had dedicated every waking moment of the past weeks to the Babcock case, had spent hours going over the same few clues that they had been able to find, but it was a dead end. By now the detective knew the woman she was trying to find wasn't what one would call _likeable_ – her many enemies and having been bestowed with the title of 'Bitch of Broadway' proved so – which only meant her job would be harder. Many people had a motive to try and hurt the heiress, yet Lauren had no idea which way to go.

The butler, she had to admit, was a tremendous help; Niles had provided them with valuable information, but it wasn't nearly enough. The detective also suspected the butler wasn't just a "concerned friend", as he had described himself when she had first met him; Lauren was almost certain Niles harboured feelings for the woman – if not, why had he broken down at the sight of her clothes? Or why was he so incredibly involved in the case?

The truth was obvious.

But she wasn't there to try and disclose his feelings for the missing producer – she was there to find the latter and lock her attacker up.

"I was hoping you'd choose that one," Lauren sighed, taking a small folder from one of her drawers. "Not only does this man look like the facial composite, but he also has a car that is similar to the one the eyewitness saw Miss Babcock getting into."

Niles almost jumped from his chair. He could feel a foreign feeling of hope bubbling up inside him. Could this man be the culprit? Were they finally going to find C.C.?

"Then why are you wasting time talking to me? Can't you call him in for questioning?" the butler asked.

"We'll be going to his house to interrogate him next week. We don't have a warrant to search his home, though."

"What?! The man is similar to the facial composite, has a car that coincides with the one Miss Babcock was last seen in and you don't have a warrant?!" Niles slammed his fist against the desk, trying to vent some of his pent-up frustration. He couldn't understand it! Did they need C.C.'s body to appear in a ditch for them to actually do something?

"Niles, that is not enough! We need more evidence, that's why I called you in. The information you give us might be helpful."

"But there is no evidence!" the butler screamed. He just felt so... helpless. He knew the legal procedures could delay the investigation, and he had tried to prepare himself to deal with the frustration of silly legalities slowing the case down, but he wasn't coping. And how could he, really? From his perspective, he was responsible for her abduction, and the mere thought of C.C. suffering at the hands of a madman was enough to make him sick to his stomach.

The producer could be being tortured or hurt at that very same moment, or she could even be... No. He wasn't going to allow himself to even think about that possibility. Not again, anyway.

She was probably having an awful time, that was for sure, and part of him felt the police wasn't doing enough. After all, a month had gone past and what did they have? A few leads, some possible suspects, and that was it.

"You are not doing enough," Niles yelled again, furiously pushing his chair back. At that stage, he wasn't sure what to do with himself anymore. "You have to... I don't know... you..."

"Niles, I assure you we are doing the best we can," the detective was imperturbable, and her stern features were still kept firmly in place. "But we can't enter into his house just because he happens to fit with a few leads we have – it's circumstantial evidence, and you know as well as I do that we are gonna need more than that!"

"And what the bloody hell do you need?! Her body to appear floating in the Hudson River? Her to appear battered and bruised in the middle of nowhere?!"

"We need more evidence, and we don't have it!" the detective rose her tone of voice, knowing from experience the butler couldn't calm down at that moment. The stress of the kidnapping was finally getting to him, and after weeks of keeping a stiff upper lip, the dam had broken down and the despair and desolation he'd held inside were running loose.

"Then find it!" Niles slammed his fist against the table again; he wasn't crying – he still couldn't allow himself to break down when C.C. needed him – but his voice was hoarse and his eyes had become glazed over. "Find her... please… find her..."

Lane rose from her own chair and walked to the butler, carefully draping an arm around his shoulders as his body shook with the sobs he was trying to contain.

"We are trying, Niles, I swear we are trying."

But to him it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough until she hadn't reappeared alive and well.

* * *

She knew that she was dreaming – or better said, that she was _daydreaming_. But was she truly certain that it was daytime? There was no way to know. The outside world – that world that now felt like a distant dream – was achingly foreign to her, and it had been weeks since the last time she had actually seen it. Night and day were indistinct to her; there, in her small prison, time was meaningless and so were mundane terms such as night or day. C.C. had no way of knowing what day it was, how much time had passed or if she was supposed to be asleep or awake – her captor had made sure to deprive her of that. She suspected it was all part of his plan to force her sanity to slip through her fingers as she lived in an eternal standstill.

In a sense, C.C. sometimes felt her prison was hidden in the far end of the universe, located in a dark corner where even time forgot to pass by. She sometimes struggled to understand that belief was a mere illusion caused by her inhumane confinement, but to the horror of the small portion of her mind that was still trying to find a way to escape, it was easier to cope when she actually allowed herself to believe those illusions.

Between the maddening loneliness, the silence and having been starved for a long period of time, the producer had very little presence of mind to think hard about anything. She had refused to even touch the few forms of entertainment that had been given to her, choosing to plunge into her vivid fantasies instead. It's truly formidable what the human psyche can do when pushed to the extremes, and one of the many wonders her brain had managed to create so as not to go insane just yet, was permitting her to vividly remember the sound of piano music.

Her dark cellar, where there was no noise apart from her faint breathing, was filled with a non-existent music almost daily – filled with an invisible melody that only inhabited her mind. But it didn't matter, she could hear it as clear as the sky in a summer day, soothing her soul from the sadness that was slowly tearing her apart. The ghost of a smile rested upon her lips every time she created her very own imaginary music, and the only movement she made – mainly because of the weakness caused by starvation – was the delicate dance of her fingers feigning to play the keys of an invisible piano.

Today she had chosen to think about one of Chopin's Nocturnes – Op. 9: No. 2 in E-Flat major. Andante, if she was correct.

She knew she was, though; it was all in her mind, after all.

C.C. remembered playing that particular nocturne on one Christmas evening many years ago – she must have been about sixteen years old at the time, and her mother had insisted that she should delight the family with one of the many songs her private music tutor had taught her. Of course C.C. had been delighted to show off her impressive ability as a pianist, and she could almost hear the impassioned applauses and beaming smiles that she had received from her family.

She'd loved playing the piano as a teenager, for music had always made her feel free. Many times, as her fingers danced expertly over the keys of her father's Steinway piano, she'd close her eyes and imagine she was flying over the city, observing it from a lone white cloud. She'd imagine the sun warming her skin and the breeze blowing softly against her face... _that was freedom_. Deep within her, C.C. still held the memory of that precious feeling of liberty and well-being that tingled her body whenever she played the piano, and now – being locked up inside an underground prison – that was the only thing she could hold onto to try and remind herself what freedom felt like.

She hadn't allowed herself to cry since the day of her abduction, nor had she caved in to Thomas' demands. The sick bastard had come down to her cellar every single day with a plate laden with food. He would sit before her and ask 'Are you going to obey me?' as he toyed with the food, enticing her senses. But she had always replied 'no', of course, so her captor would simply eat the food in front of her before leaving her alone, trapped in a maddening silence. Sometimes he would allow her to take a bite of the food, just to torment her by not giving her more of it after she had refused to obey him. He hadn't hit her again, but C.C. had been able to see her captor had had to force himself (for some unknown reason) to supress his violent nature whenever she had contradicted him.

The blonde was quickly learning that spite and stubbornness were going to take her nowhere in that situation, but then again, she was far too proud to give in to Thomas' wishes. Part of her feared that if she did so, she'd betray who she was...

But there was a harsh reality – there was only a limited amount of time she could go without ingesting food, and she was running out of time. C.C. supposed he wouldn't let her starve to death, but she was not sure how much longer she could hang on. For starters, the lack of food meant lack of energy, hence the simplest tasks (such as getting up of the mattress to get some water) representing a gargantuan effort to her. She had been unable to move since she had woken up, even if her mouth was dry and both her empty stomach and her desperate thirst were demanding her to get some water.

She opened her eyes, breaking the spell that kept her immersed in a bubble of imaginary music. The room was dark except from the faint light coming from the little lamp that had been given to her, and it was also a bit messier than when she'd first woken there – there were a few clothes on the floor and she had thrown the books against the walls, scattering them across the little cellar. She wanted – no, scratch that, she _needed_ water, but the few steps that separated her from the sink would surely feel like kilometres to her.

The producer whimpered, slowly moving on her mattress. The pain of hunger was a feeling that had become macabrely familiar to her, and although she knew a temporary solution was to fill her stomach with water, she couldn't bring herself to move. Briefly, her mind was assaulted by thoughts of just letting herself wither away until she fell into a deep sleep and never woke again…

 _"Babcock, get a grip!"_ that familiar British voice said from the back of her mind.

The producer groaned, rubbing her eyes before attempting to sit up. Ever since she had been abducted she hadn't been able to get rid of his voice, and it was starting to irk her. Strangely enough, however, his voice was usually the voice of reason, and she had begrudgingly accepted that listening to its advice was the best course of action in most of situations. In her heart of hearts, she was also aware that the voice brought a strange form of consolation, for in a way it was like she wasn't so alone anymore. Not that she would accept it, though, she was still angry with the butler, and the notion of his voice being comforting was completely infuriating.

"Will you shut up, you jackass?" she muttered.

 _"Aw, but where is the fun in that, Babcock? You know pestering you is my hobby!"_

"If you haven't noticed, I'm dealing with a situation here. You know, the _a-psycho-kidnapped-me thing_? I have no time for your blabbering."

 _"And do you honestly think dying of thirst will help you? I know animals like you get fidgety when locked, but I was expecting you to fight back! If you stop caring, he'll win,"_ the voice replied, a little harsher than usual. It reminded C.C. of the tone Niles adopted when he was reprimanding the kids for being stubborn. _"And we both know you hate losing."_

"And what the hell do you know?!" she wheezed, her eyes feeling hot as tears pricked in their corners. "You are not even real. And the real you is most probably slacking around the mansion, celebrating I am gone."

There was a pause, which C.C. used to wick away her tears. She could almost see the piercing glare Niles would have been giving her at that moment.

 _"That's not true. And you know it,"_ it replied in a clipped tone. _"The real me cares about you, and so do I."_

"Bullshit! But I am not discussing this with you. Can't you go back to the hole you crept out of? I have better things to do than listening to you."

 _"Last time I checked, dying of thirst is not what most people would define as "better things to do"."_

C.C. was sure Niles would have said that with his characteristic unamused expression.

"I am not most people, so buzz off."

 _"Do you even qualify as people?"_

Great. Now even a creation of her stressed mind was teasing her. If the real Niles knew about this he'd be laughing his ass off. It's not like she could find out, though. "Shut up and disappear. You are a creation of my mind, you should do what I say."

 _"On the contrary! Seeing as the real me rarely does what you want, I am not gonna do it, either. We are stuck together whether you like it or not, Babs."_

The producer groaned. "Is there any way I could get you to shut up for a while? You are annoying me."

 _"Go and drink water. Then I'll shut up."_

C.C. glanced at the sink. It was just so far away... her legs were weak, and she doubted they'd be able to carry her weight for more than a few steps before giving out. It was true, she needed water, but she was not willing to subject herself to the humiliation of falling to the ground as she tried to get it.

"No," she lay back down on the mattress. It hurt too much to move, she couldn't do it... she had no strength.

The voice didn't say anything for a few minutes, and C.C. slowly began to drift back into one of her daydreams – this time her song of choice being Mozart's sonata N 14, 'Moonlight', in C-sharp Minor.

 _"I knew it,"_ the voice suddenly spoke again and laughed sardonically. _"I was right about you. You are a chicken, you gave up."_

His – or rather her – words caused a surge of anger to course her body. She jolted upright, her lips pursed in a thin line. The memory of that prank he'd played on her so long ago still miffed her, and she wasn't about to let her own mind taunt her with possibly one of the most embarrassing moments of her whole life.

"The hell I am, Hazel," she hissed leaning against the wall to help herself rise to her feet. The task wasn't easy, she had spent the last day lying on the mattress, and her legs wobbled as she fought to stand.

 _"Prove me wrong, then."_

C.C. smirked in spite of herself. The way the voice had just spoken reminded her of the glint that shone in Niles' eyes whenever she challenged him – she had seen it almost every day for the past fifteen years. It was as though his baby blues became alive, inviting her to challenge him, to prove him wrong even if he'd put up a battle.

"Just watch me, Jeeves. Unlike you, I prefer to act instead of slack around counting the minutes that are left until my next soap starts."

 _"That's rich coming from a person who's been sprawled on a mattress for days,"_ Niles' voice replied swiftly.

The producer took a deep breath and steadied herself. She had to prove him wrong, she had to show him (or perhaps herself) that she was still the same fiery and powerful woman she had always been. Even if she was locked in a cellar and – at least for the moment – slowly starving to death. The hardest part was taking the first step; standing up was exhausting in itself, and walking even more so.

" _Come on, Trollop,"_ it encouraged

"With pleasure, Bell Boy," C.C. moved forward, supporting her weight against the wall as she advanced a few steps.

 _"Is that the best you can do, Brunette?"_

And that was it. Again C.C. took a deep breath and crossed the small room in one stride. That little bastard was not going to win – not him nor Thomas. She was C.C. Babcock, the Bitch of Broadway, and she could do anything. Luckily, she reached the sink before her knees gave out and supported her weight against it as she used one of her hands to open the faucet and guide her cup – which had been given to her by her captor on the third day of her imprisonment – to it. Before she knew it, she was gulping down glass of water after glass of water, finally quenching her maddening thirst. The feeling was heavenly – clear water rushed down her previously dry throat, ridding her body from dehydration and bringing momentary fullness to her empty stomach.

Not to get her wrong, hunger was still gnawing at her, tormenting her... but this brief relief would be enough for now. Now that she was hydrated, she began to think more clearly – her head didn't feel quite so heavy, she was more alert and had more energy.

This was exactly what she needed.

She smiled to herself as she staggered back to the mattress and plopped herself down on it. The only downside of being slightly more lucid and alert, was that she no longer could entertain herself with imaginary music, so she heaved a sigh and scrambled for one of the books her captor had given her.

" "Pride and Prejudice"," she read the title aloud. She loved that book, it had always been one of her favourite novels, but she had never had the time to re-read it after college. Seeing as she now had all the time in the world, she figured it was of no use to waste this opportunity.

She had to make the best of what she had, and clearly this was the only way. After all, there was a part of her that knew she'd go insane if she didn't do anything but lie on a mattress day after day. The producer carefully opened the book and brushed her fingers against the worn out, yellowish pages; the book was obviously really old, and the creased binding and slightly musty smell it possessed were only further proof of that.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife," C.C. read aloud.

"However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of someone or other of their daughters," a sudden third voice said, starting C.C..

The producer looked up at the only way in or out of her prison – the little trap door in the ceiling – and found Thomas staring down at her. As usual, he was holding a plate laden with food, but this time he had also brought a basket full of other provisions: bread, some chocolate, chips, a can of diet soda and a few apples. Her stomach growled at the sight of food, but the producer only scowled at the man and closed the book with a loud thump.

"I knew you'd like that book," the man said, ignoring the fury so clearly written across her features. "I am glad you are finally using the gifts I left you."

Although C.C. still hadn't given in to his demands, she no longer talked back at him unless it was extremely necessary. She knew his patience was running thin, and however wounding it was for her pride, she valued her life more than being a smart ass. Besides, last time she had done so she had been hit, and C.C. didn't want to repeat that. So, as she usually did, she simply folded her arms across her front and glared at him as Thomas set the food before her and played with it.

"Look what I did for you today! A nice mushroom risotto, I believe it's your favourite! Don't you want some?" he asked, taking a spoonful and swallowing it down. "... mhmm... delicious!"

C.C. had to use all her self-control not to plunge at the food left before her. She was just so hungry... so very, very hungry...

But food came at a cost – she'd have to say she'd obey him, and she wasn't willing to do that, not now or in a million years. Unluckily, and as she had reminded herself many times before, there was a limited amount of time she could go on without food, and the fact she could already see her ribs was a sign that she didn't have much time left.

"You don't want some? I am sure that you need some food, don't you?" he scooted closer to her, holding out a spoonful of risotto for her to take. "Come on, you know you need it."

The producer shut her eyes, trying to contain the tears. Yes, she knew what she wanted, but by doing so she'd betray herself. She had to stay strong to-

 _"Say it, Babcock,"_ Niles' imaginary voice said. _"We both know you can't go on like this for much longer"_

C.C. hesitated. Damn it... he was right! He was obnoxiously right. She was in a hopeless situation; she had no way out except uttering those words. But could she do it? Maybe she should try to say no again, to stay strong until her captor caved in and fed her.

 _"Please, Babcock, trust me on this one. He won't back down, and you can't give him the satisfaction of dying due to starvation,"_ the voice insisted _. "Trust me, please."_

C.C. whimpered. In any other occasion, she would have never even dreamed of trusting Niles – or in this case, his voice – but she knew he was right. She didn't exactly know when, but his voice had progressively become the voice of reason, and so far his advice had always been correct.

She had no choice.

This was the way out.

Just went Thomas was about to leave, she reached out and grabbed his sleeve. The man stopped and slowly turned to her, a macabre smile etched across his features.

"Anything you want to say?" he asked.

C.C. nodded. "I... I will..." she trailed off, the words tasting bitter in her mouth. She couldn't do this... she couldn't do it!

 _"Yes you can, Babcock. You are a fighter, now fight."_

And that was what she needed. His voice encouraging her. C.C. looked up and thought of Niles, hoping the creation of her mind was right in this one.

"I will obey you," she eventually said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas smiled and simply handed her the plate. He also cut a few pieces of bread, gave her a piece of chocolate and the diet soda. Then he placed two apples on her little table and headed back for the trap door, carrying the basket with him.

"That's all I wanted to hear, Claire. Now enjoy."

And with that she was once again left alone, feeling ashamed and used. Granted, she wouldn't starve anymore, but remaining alive had come at a great price, and she couldn't help but wonder what she had gotten herself into.

* * *

 **AN: So... um... hi! Originally I wasn't planning on continuing thisnstory, but after the encouragement of a few reviews and a new friend and reader, I decided to keep going. Hope you enjoy it! As usual, reviews are much appreciated :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**_Chapter 5_**

 ** _Reasons_**

Thomas Jones had always been a lover of control. His adult life was defined by carefully planned schedules, invariability in his daily routine and an almost compulsive need to be both in charge and in control. He was the youngest of five brothers, hence him always being bossed around by his older – and, frankly, cruel – siblings. He remembered them bullying him into doing things he didn't want to, like stealing candy from shops or carrying out dangerous shenanigans that his brothers weren't brave enough to commit themselves.

He had gotten into a lot of trouble due to that, and his biological father had never been a forgiving man – as a matter of fact, he was one of those men who believed that a "firm hand" and a few "well placed strikes with the belt" were enough to correct any type of misconduct. So, he had been torn between the abuse of his brothers (who hit him whenever he didn't do as they said) and the abuse of his biological father, who was adept to physical punishment. Thomas had also long suspected his family in resented him, for his biological mother had died while giving birth to him, and it was a "sin" that neither his siblings nor his father ever forgave.

Thus, it was no wonder when he became a timid, troubled kid. He'd had no friends at school, preferring to spend hours reading alone at the library or simply building things. He didn't care, either, for he despised most people – he was better off alone. The breaking point had been one episode when he was 12 – most of his brothers had already moved out of the house, but Jonathan (the eldest) had stayed behind, alongside Thomas and his father. He didn't exactly remember how or why the argument started, but it quickly spiralled out of control and had ended with him semi-dead at the ER. He had been sent to live in a foster home then, and barely a year later he had been adopted by a really nice older couple – the Jones.

But the damage was done… not even a safe and predictable environment had been enough to erase the trace of abuse imprinted on his soul.

He grew up to be a bitter, self-serving, manipulative adult who hid under a mask of complacency. Thomas knew how to impress people, how to make them _like_ him – as any good sociopath, he knew how to be charming when he needed to. That's how he had gotten through life; hiding his demons deep within him and resenting life for what had happened to him.

But everything changed when he came across C.C. Babcock…

He had been hired as a stage manager for Sheffield Productions a few years ago, and he remembered the moment his eyes had first found the statuesque blonde like it was yesterday – it was a Monday and it was pouring. She had flounced into the theatre, soaking wet, and bantering with a visibly amused blue-eyed gentleman; apparently he had poked holes in her umbrella as some kind of prank, and the blonde responded in kind by giving the man a wet "hug", completely drenching his clothes, too.

He had been initially drawn to her purely because of her beauty, but as days went past and he got the chance to work with her, he had been spellbound by her abrasive and dominant personality. In a sense, the woman reminded him of both his biological father and mother – she was gorgeous, just like he had been told his mother had been; and she was dangerous, dominant, at times cruel… just like his father. That's why he became utterly fascinated with her; she was the incarnation of both weakness and strength.

A dark obsession soon began to grow like bindweed, wrapping itself around his every thought. He tried to ignore that pesky, dangerous idea, but it reached the point where it became almost impossible. There was a war in his mind – he was torn between hating and wanting her, and eventually those two emotions mingled, creating a deadly combination. He wanted her, he couldn't deny it – he actually pictured her as the wife he would have wanted to have – but he also had the need to reduce her, to break her, to turn the indomitable woman into a submissive creature. Just like what he had wanted to do with his father.

Her rejection when he had invited her out had only enhanced that desire, and he had soon devised a macabre plan. He begun to observe her, to follow her around, he learned everything about her... all while he built the cellar that would be her prison.

The prison where she was right this very moment. He couldn't help but congratulate himself on his plan – it had worked perfectly.

Now all he needed was time. She'd learn, in the end.

She'd be his, entirely.

Meanwhile, he went about his normal business, occasionally bringing her meals when her behaviour had been satisfactory. That wasn't as often as he would have hoped for yet, but there was time. It wasn't like she was going anywhere, and he could thank himself for that.

The sudden disappearance of a producer had thrown the company into no small amount of turmoil, and production had been halted while the search continued. Those first few days after had been oddly _amusing_ to him, knowing exactly who they were missing and looking for and pleading for the safe return of on the television, knowing where she was and not telling them that he did...

He really was brilliant, and the fact that no one suspected a thing was even better.

His satisfied thought was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. One of these days, when everyone who'd ever known the woman beneath his feet right then had forgotten her, he'd have her answer it for him. But that was going to take training, and time.

For now, there were some things he'd just have to do himself.

But a second thought crept into his mind as he approached the front door; he wasn't expecting anyone, and no one had knocked at his door in years. The only person who came by every once in a while was his adoptive sister, who lived in Boston, and she had her own set of keys and usually told him when she was coming. So who could it be?

Given the circumstances he knew it could only mean one thing…

He turned on his heels and dashed back to the kitchen as he took off the sweater he was wearing – he didn't want to risk her smell reaching the policemen's noses – and stored both the garment and the semi-empty basket he had just used to take food to his prisoner inside the pantry. He knew how to act in this situation; he had to keep his composure, pay attention to the questions he was surely going to have to respond and appear to be a rather cordial host.

He heard them knocking again – this time more forcefully. He had to hurry up…

Thomas grabbed a few cookies from the cookie jar just over the kitchen counter and placed them on a plate. He then carelessly dropped it on the kitchen table, opened a magazine and pulled back the chair – for an outsider it would look like he had been spending a tranquil afternoon reading and munching on a snack. No one would suspect that he had just returned from a hidden cellar where C.C. Babcock was being held against her will.

Finally, Thomas took a deep breath and went to the door. Just as he had suspected, there were two detectives at the other side of it – it was show time.

"Who is it?" he called, appearing nonchalant.

"Mr Jones, it's detective Lane and Detective Ferguson, from New York's police department. Would you please open up? We have some questions we'd like to discuss with you."

Of course Thomas opened the door with a feigned look of confusion on his face. He was trying in earnest to look convincing, and as soon as he laid his eyes on the tall, grey-haired detective before him he knew he was dealing with an investigator with finely attuned instincts.

"What can I help you with?" he said, giving way for the two detectives to come into the house.

"I am Detective Lauren Lane, pleasure to meet you," the middle aged woman said, extending a hand at him. "We are here due to Miss Babcock's disappearance. Does the name ring a bell?"

Again Thomas feigned surprise. "Oh, yes! She was my employer. Please, come with me to the living room, we'll be more comfortable there. Can I offer you something to drink?"

"A glass of water will be fine," Lane said. He noticed that, unlike her partner, she hadn't taken a seat and was looking around with rapt attention. Her eyes were scanning her surroundings, as though looking for some type of suspicious thing. Thomas grinned internally – he had been careful not to leave any loose strings.

"Of course, I'll be right back."

"I'll go with you," Lane said, heading for the kitchen.

Had she been looking at Thomas she would have noticed the twitch in his smile. He hadn't closed the door that connected the garage with the kitchen, and although the entrance to the cellar was well hidden behind the washing machine he felt uneasy with a policewoman so close to his dark secret.

But he had to save face – he had to remain calmed. The more nervous he became, the more suspicious he would seem. That's why he followed the detective into the kitchen without protesting. He noticed that Lane was looking around, too; he had to get that glass of water, and it had to be quick.

"Do you live alone, Mr Jones?" Detective Lane asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Yes, I do," he answered, getting a clean glass from one of the cupboards.

"And are you in a relationship?"

Thomas went to the fridge and retrieved a jar with fresh water. For some reason her questions were putting him on edge – why was she so insistent about him living with someone? Did they know something? "No, unluckily no."

"That's odd…" Lane said, walking towards the sink. "Then why are there two plates and two forks in here? Did you have anyone over for lunch?"

Thomas froze for a second. How had he been so stupid?! He hadn't cleaned the dish she had used! And to top it all he had left it there for the world to see! He needed a quick excuse… something that could explain it… and most of all, he needed to remain calmed.

"Oh, that? I just had two servings at lunch. I had already put the first plate in the sink when I decided to have a second serving and didn't feel like cleaning," he smiled as he handed Lane her glass of water. It had been a good save, he thought, he now hoped Lane would buy it.

She seemed to consider for a moment. If she was suspicious, she was very good at hiding it.

"Hm, alright," she said slowly, nodding a little, her eyes continuing to scan the room.

He couldn't sigh in relief. He couldn't convincingly pass it off as just letting out a breath. No, his delight at having gotten away with that little detail would have to remain internal for the time being.

She sipped on her water as she continued to look around, asking him more questions.

"How long have you lived here?"

"How long have you worked in theatre?"

"Can you think of anyone you've worked with who might want to hurt your employer?"

He answered each one without hesitation. Well, apart from some feigned reluctance in the last one, but that was purely acting on his part.

He had to make it seem convincing, after all.

And the detective seemed to take it all in. Good. She could go back to her precinct and stay right where she was, so very far away from him and the woman in the cellar. Even if she was screaming, no one could hear it.

Not from up here.

"Well... we are done for now," Lane announced, giving back the empty glass of water. She wanted to search the house, but with a warrant that would be impossible – if she was being honest due to the lack of evidence against him, it already was impossible.

She narrowed her eyes at the man before going back to the living room. "But this won't be the last time we'll see each other, Mr Jones."

The man kept his soft smile firmly in place, not letting his anger at the clear threat show. "And I'll always be happy to help," he said, not meaning even one word he'd said.

Lane nodded, and he then escorted the grey-haired detective and her partner back to the front door.

"Until next time, Mr Jones," Lane said, shaking his hand.

"Until next time, Detective Lane."

He stood on his doorstep until the police had gotten into the patrol and driven away. Deep within him he was fuming – how had they gotten to him?! And why did the detective feel so suspicious about hi-

And it hit him.

There was only one person observant enough to notice him; to notice his interest in the blonde producer. And that was a certain butler. Thomas had noticed his obsession with pranking Miss Babcock, too, and he suspected the man was just as interested in C.C. as he was.

Well... C.C. would pay for the close call.

And speaking of calls, he had one very important call to make.

He went back into the house and he made his way to the cellar, smiling to himself and carrying a disposable phone with him. The fun was just about to begin.

* * *

Niles almost jumped from his seat as soon as he heard the phone ringing. For all he knew, it could be Lane with news about her incursion to Mr Jones' house, and he didn't want to miss the call for anything. Who know, it might be good news!

He ran to the handset, took it in his hand and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?"

But no one answered...

"Hello?!" he tried again.

And suddenly, in the background, he heard the sound of someone being smacked and a very familiar voice.

A very familiar sultry and low-pitched voice.

" _Please... I... I'll be good."_

 _"I said six punches to the stomach! Now count or they will be ten!"_ an indistinct male voice replied. " _NOW!_ "

After a pause, C.C. whimpered, " _F-five_ ," and once again the butler heard the horrible sound the kidnapper's fist made as it made contact with C.C.'s stomach.

" _COUNT! GOD DAMMIT, COUNT!_ " the male voice ordered, and after C.C. muttered the number, one last blow was given.

It felt like the blow was being given to Niles' own stomach, and a repulsion began to creep into his stomach that made him nauseous.

"Miss Babcock?!" he yelled, hoping it was loud enough to get to her.

 _"N-Niles...?"_ he could hear her whimpering still, somewhere down on the other end. She sounded far away.

Was she on the floor?! Had this deranged lunatic forced her to her knees from the force of his blows?!

"Miss Babcock, where are you?!" Niles screamed, desperate. "Tell us where you are!"

Another smack, a howl of pain, and the kidnapper's threatening tone again, this time quieter, as though he wasn't speaking directly into the phone. Just close enough so that the butler would hear what was going on.

 _"You speak one word, and I'll make sure no one ever hears you again!"_

Niles was too desperate to keep quiet, "What are you doing with her, you bastard?!"

The voice was back against the phone again, and it spoke in an almost matter-of-fact way, " _I'm keeping her. And you're not going to find her, either. So I'd suggest you keep yourself to yourself from now on. She's mine, and no one, least of all you, is going to stand in my way."_

"I am going to kill you!" Niles screamed into the phone, pacing around the living room, wanting to punch the attacker but finding himself unable to. "I am going to find you and I am going to kill you, do you hear me?!"

"Loud and clear," the bastard teased and another smack was heard. This time C.C. could barely whimper – she was too tired and in pain. " _Pity you can't hear her screams as well as I hear yours_."

And with that the kidnapper dropped the phone and Niles heard the sound of a body being dragged, accompanied by some weak moans from the producer.

" _You will not eat for another week_ ," the kidnapper sentenced, and just before the line had gone dead, Niles heard the most desperately heart-wrenching howl of anguish she had ever heard.

"Miss Babcock?!" he yelled into the phone, collapsing against a wall and his body slowly sliding to the floor. The phone fell from his hand, and he could only bury his face in his hands and weep.

The commotion had made both Maxwell and Fran run into the living room, their hearts racing and their bodies trembling. They had heard Niles screaming.

"Niles?!" Maxwell dashed to his friend and knelt by his side. "Niles, what's wrong?!"

"Was that Miss Babcock?!" Fran added.

But Niles couldn't respond – his mind was still too focused in the desperation dripping from C.C.'s voice when she had been told she wouldn't be fed for another week.

He had said _another_ …

The man had been starving her for God knows how long! And thanks to him she would continue to suffer from this punishment for yet another week. At best.

She was out there, most definitely suffering, and there was nothing he could do about it. There was no indication of where she was in the call. Her kidnapper had silenced her before she could tell him. The call had purely been to taunt.

He wanted to kill him.

Niles had never been a violent man, but this was enough to make him snap. No one hurt C.C. Babcock – no one. And this man was torturing her, and all the butler could think about was doing the same to him.

He wouldn't care if he got put away for life for it, as long as he got to dish out exactly as much hurt as the monster was causing the producer right that very instant. It would mean he had the bastard right there, choking under his hands, body bruising and bones breaking under his feet...

He was so engrossed in his macabre and yet strangely satisfying fantasy that he almost didn't hear Maxwell and Fran still talking to him.

"Don't shut us out now, Old Man!" the British producer pleaded. "What was said?! We've got to get to the police!"

Niles looked up at both Maxwell and Fran, his eyes ablaze with fury as a few tears ran down his cheeks. The bastard was hurting her, hitting her, starving her...

And he could only helplessly hear it happen.

But both Miss Fine and Mr Sheffield were right; the police needed to know. Perhaps they'd find a way to track the call and find out where she was being kept prisoner. Perhaps this was a clue that would point them in the direction of the culprit.

A culprit that probably was called Thomas Jones, Niles suspected.

He retold what he had heard during the disturbing call to his employer and to the nanny, and Maxwell immediately dialled Lane's number. The policewoman arrived merely minutes later, alongside a few technicians, who tried to track the call to no avail.

"But what did he say in the call?!" Lane asked, pacing the Sheffield's living room. "Did she say something? Maybe a hidden clue? What were their exact words?"

"I already told you! Niles snapped, banging his fist against the coffee table. "He was hitting her and forcing her to count. I couldn't hear why he hit her nor any information about where she was or with whom she was with."

"And he then said that he intended to keep her?" Lane asked again, raking her brains to connect this new information with the existent suspects. None of them had showed this level of obsession with the woman.

Niles nodded.

"And then what? Did you reply? Did you talk to him?"

"As I said before," Niles repeated, a hard and extremely fed up edge to his voice. "I said I was going to find him and kill him. He was taunting me! And the last thing I heard was him saying C.C. wouldn't eat for another week."

"Hm," Lane screwed up her face in concentration. Clearly she was frustrated at the lack of substantial information.

But not nearly as much as Niles was.

He knew that they couldn't do anything without real proof. If it was Thomas, they couldn't search his house without a warrant and the lack of evidence would make getting one signed by a judge impossible.

They could be so close, and never know it.

And that was what was killing him inside.

Well, that and the fact that this was all his fault. Why did he have to be such an idiot?!

If he could go back, he'd gladly suffer a thousand heart attacks, if it meant she'd be alright. If it meant waking up and seeing her face again. Her beautiful, unbruised, healthy face. He'd take her into his arms and never let anyone hurt her again.

"And that was when the phone went dead?" Lane asked one final question, and suddenly it was like that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Yes, that was when the phone went dead!" he snapped, his insides clenching all at once as the tears leaked further and faster out of his eyes. "Probably just as dead as we'll find Miss Babcock, at this rate!"

Silence. Everyone was staring at him.

And he didn't blame them. _He_ 'd be staring at _himself,_ if it were possible.

He couldn't believe he'd said such a thing, and now all he wanted to do was get away.

"Niles-"

"Don't even try, Miss Fine," Niles cut her off, turning on his heels and storming out of the mansion, his destination uncertain.

He needed to blow off some steam – to let out the frustration and sorrow that were squeezing his battered heart. And speaking of hearts, he couldn't help but wish that his had stopped when he had suffered from his heart attack. If he had died, she would have never left the hospital and she would have never been taken by that bastard.

It was his fault... his and only his.

He barely noticed where his feet were taking him as tears leaked from his eyes and went down his cheeks. He was walking on autopilot, and before he realised it he found himself before Miss Babcock's apartment door.

Why had he gone there?

Why had his mind subconsciously taken him to her home?

If he was being honest, he felt undeserving of even being near her possessions after what he had done, but there was a part of him that craved to go in. He crouched down and retrieved the spare key from underneath the doormat, just where he had left it the last time he had been in her apartment.

He took a deep breath as he inserted the key in the lock and turned it until he heard a faint "click" – the door was open.

Niles pushed it open and for what felt like an endless instant he merely stood there, staring into the depths of her home. Everything was exactly how she had left it the morning of his heart attack; everything ready for when she came back home after a long day.

If she had only come home that day...

He stepped inside, letting the door close gently behind him.

And then he leaned against the wood, sliding down to the floor, and allowed himself to weep.

It was all his fault. She was out there, in more pain than anyone could ever imagine, and the kidnapper was right. They weren't going to find her. And it was all his fault...!

"I'm sorry," he choked out as he sobbed – he didn't know who to. She had been alive when the call had happened earlier, but he didn't know if she was still, and his outburst back at the mansion only made him think about it more, and worse. "I'm so sorry...this is all my fault, and there's nothing I can do...to make up for it; I never should have done it, oh, God...I love you so much, and it's all my fault that you're not here anymore!"

His words only reverberated a little off the walls, but to the butler, it was like a damning echo, repeating his words and judging him each and every single time.

 _"Not here anymore...not here anymore...not here anymore..."_

He wiped his eyes, having cried himself out so much he could have sworn his heart had burst, and took in a deep breath. It didn't calm him as much as he felt he needed, but the air in the place still carried traces of her – her Chanel no. 5 perfume. It was almost like she'd been there only now...

If he closed his eyes, he knew, he could almost imagine her there, standing as tall and beautiful as always. He could imagine her smiling down at him with one of those playful smirks he loved so much, and be could imagine her tossing a zinger his way before asking for coffee as she usually did.

God... thinking about it hurt more than he could admit, and he could only bury his face in his hands, desolation and shame seeping into his heart.

"I am so very sorry..." he kept repeating, not caring that there was no one to listen.

He only hoped that, wherever she was, Miss Babcock knew just how sorry he was.

Not that it mattered. Being sorry didn't protect her from the abuse at the hands of her captor. He didn't know what else was being done to her, but his treacherous mind soon busied itself with thoughts of the blonde producer being abused in the most terrible ways, all while he sat there and waited for a miracle.

He shook himself out of it – he couldn't allow himself to crumble down! He couldn't allow himself to be defeated when C.C. needed him the most. He had to keep a level head and try to aid the police in finding her.

And if they didn't, then he himself would search every corner of this Earth until he had found her.

The butler stood up and walked further into the penthouse, eventually reaching her room. The bed was unmade, and lying at the foot of the bed were a pair of pale blue pyjamas – clearly the ones she had used the night before her disappearance.

Not really caring about what he was doing, he laid down upon the bed and wrapped the sheets around him – they still smelled of her. He didn't care if it was sick, or wrong. No one was around to see, and he needed it.

He needed to feel like she was right there beside him.

He buried his face in one of the pillows, inhaling deeply. It filled his heart with the ghost of a kind of warmth he knew would only become real when it was her, really her, he was breathing against, not sheets on a comfortable bed, in a comfortable penthouse, in a comfortable life, that she had been snatched from nearly a month ago.

But being against the pillows with the sheets around him wasn't enough. He pulled her pyjamas over, and lay them against the pillow, before wrapping his arm around it.

There. The sheets and the pyjamas were cold, and soft in the way a human body wasn't, but it was all he had. And it was comfortable.

He could close his eyes, and imagine that they'd simply fallen asleep together; no one had been taken against their will, the other wasn't missing them with such force that it felt like their soul had been ripped from their body, there was no investigation going on that could take years or grow cold or turn up the worst possible news.

There was only them, with their arms wrapped around each other, in the bliss of a relaxed afternoon. Perhaps they'd been out that morning, had coffee, and decided to take a nap. They'd exhausted themselves bantering and laughing and joking, and he'd been able to tell her he loved her, and there was no pain and nothing was wrong.

 _A fantasy._ All of it.

A fantasy that was destroyed by the memory of her pained wails whenever that bastard punched her. A fantasy that came crashing down when the knowledge that she wasn't there crept into his mind.

He hugged the pillow even tighter as a few tears ran down his cheeks. Why was he doing this to her? Why her? Where was he keeping her? What was he planning on doing with her?

He had so many questions and no answers.

"I am so very sorry, C.C.," he whispered, her scent impregnating itself inside his nostrils. "This is all my fault."

Silence was his answer – silence and an emptiness inside his heart. He needed to do something for her, but what? What could he do when he had no idea where to look for her or who to follow?

Well... he was good at something, and that something was something he could actually do right then.

He slowly sat back up on the bed, never letting the pillow or her pyjamas – he was taking those, there was no doubt in his mind about that. He might also take her perfume with him.

The penthouse hadn't been cleaned in around a month, and it showed. But he wasn't going to allow it to stay that way for a minute longer! No, when she came back, C.C. would have a clean and comfortable home once again.

He knew what he had to do.

Setting the pillow, the perfume, and the pyjamas to one side, he got to work.

He started by changing the bedsheets, piling them into the hamper that was still half-full of undone laundry. He took out fresh ones, as well as a spare pillow that he thankfully managed to find stored away in the linen closet (it could have been interesting if she'd come home and noticed a pillow gone).

He slipped the sheets on, plumped the pillows, and turned down the covers with care. He wanted it to look nice, as well as be fresh, after all.

He then took the laundry to the washer-dryer, and set a cycle going. When he was there, he also found a few household cleaning supplies, and he took them back to the room to start working on cleaning the dust off the surfaces, and to scour the en-suite bathroom, until everything shone.

He couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she came home and someone had done all this to welcome her back.

He went through each room of the penthouse – from emptying the disgusting mess left in Chester's food bowl in the kitchen and taking out the trash, to polishing the coffee table in the living room, to dusting off each and every surface in her home office. Even the highest bookshelf got more than a once-over.

By the time he was finished, the place was spotless.

His finishing touch was to fold up the magazine left open on the coffee table, and to put it back neatly on the pile in the middle.

He let out a breath, and looked around at his handiwork. It had taken him hours, and the clothes in the laundry had yet to be ironed and put away, but he felt like he had accomplished something.

He hoped Miss Babcock would like it when she came back.

 _If_ she came back, some little malicious voice in his head muttered.

He shook his head, almost trying to physically remove the dark thought. No, it was when she came back. He couldn't keep thinking about the negatives!

They'd already gotten him into enough trouble as it was. He didn't know how he was going to make up for what he'd done at the mansion.

He heaved a sigh before he went back to the washing room to iron her clothes.

He hoped that, wherever she was, she knew that he was looking for her.

* * *

 **AN: I can't say how sorry I am for the delay! Inspiration was eluding me whenever I tried to write this story, so not wanting to leave you all intrigued, I recurred to my best friend and favourite writing buddy: TheCrownedLioness. We have written quite a number of the chapters that are to follow, and from now onwards this will be a co-written story.**

 **Hope you liked the chapter and there are more coming!**

 **We'd love to hear your opinions.**

 **L**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Chapter 6_**

 ** _Intrusion_**

 _One week._

 _Seven days._

 _168 hours._

That much time had passed since she had been given her last meal, and her stomach was aching from the hunger. She knew today she was due to be fed, but she was desperate for Thomas to come down already.

She had made sure to be in her best behaviour that week – she hadn't talked back to Thomas the few times he had come down to check on her, and she had dutifully completed the chore he had given her: fold the clean clothes.

He had promised that, if she behaved, not only she'd be fed but she'd also be allowed to take a shower.

Her first shower in a month…

She felt (and was) filthy, and she couldn't wait to wash herself.

 _"Me either, Babcock,"_ said a little voice from the back of her head as she finished tidying her cellar. Any moment from then Thomas would come down – she knew because he had given her a clock. _"You know, deodorant is a wonderful invention! You should consider using it."_

C.C. groaned, carelessly dropping the cooking book Thomas had ordered her to read on top of her little table.

"You again?!" she said aloud, plopping herself down on the chair. "I can't believe I get to hear your insufferable voice even down here."

 _"You didn't complain when you heard it on the phone the other day,"_ the voice in her head snapped. _"Quite the opposite, in fact."_

She groaned in irritation, but she knew the voice was right. Even from where she had been that day, she'd heard Niles' voice as though he were right next to her. And it pulled on her heart like it could have been ripped out of her chest if he'd managed to say another word to her.

 _"You wish the real me was right next to you,"_ beneath the layer of care, the voice almost sounded smug.

Again, she had nothing to say back because the voice was right. She did wish Niles was there. If not for the fact that it would mean another person who could help fight off Thomas every time he beat her, but for the fact that it would mean someone to talk to. Someone to...

Her thought trailed off, and the voice was back.

 _"Someone to what?"_ it asked. _"Someone to hold at night? Someone to whisper caring words and tell you that everything will be alright?"_

"It would be nice, yes," she admitted, sounding a little angry. "Certainly better than whatever this thing going on between you and me is."

 _"This little thing going on between us is what's keeping you sane, Babcock,"_ the voice replied _. "I'm a substitute. A placeholder, until the real Niles becomes available."_

"Until," she echoed the word aloud. "That makes it sound like you think I'm gonna get out of here. And that when I do, he'll still be...that he won't have..."

There was silence. She didn't want to think about the fact that it could be years by the time she finally left, if she ever did. But in her mind, all she could see was her family, and the Sheffields, and Niles, all giving up the search and moving on without her. Maxwell would marry Nanny Fine, and they'd probably have more kids and be one big happy family, not remembering the tall blonde woman that used to come and work in the house.

And Niles...he'd probably meet some nice woman out somewhere, and-

 _"Don't even think that,"_ the voice snapped again. _"You heard the way he was on the phone. Do you honestly believe he'll forget you?!"_

"I don't know," she hissed, burying her face in her hands. "By the time I get out of here many things could have changed."

 _"Don't be ridiculous,"_ it replied, and she could almost see Niles rolling her eyes at her. _"He won't move on. He won't forget you."_

C.C. felt a strong urge to cry right then. The thought of her family and Niles was tearing at her heart, and it had been a while since the urge to run away was so strong. But she couldn't allow herself to dwell in those thoughts; she had to focus in surviving.

 _"I know positive thinking is somewhat foreign to you,"_ the voice interrupted her thoughts. _"But could you be a bit hopeful?"_

"Easy for you to say, you don't even exist!"

Suddenly, the noise of the heavy trapdoor being opened silenced both producer and (imaginary) butler. Thomas was there, and he was carrying a basket full of food.

Her favourite meals at that.

She immediately got to her feet, leaving the seat to her captor. As usual.

"Since you have been good this week," he began, not looking in her direction but instead taking the chair and setting the basket down with a thud to make her flinch. "I have decided you've earned a treat."

He brought out a covered plate which turned out to be full of risotto, clearly fresh from the oven where it was still steaming. A baked potato, with what looked like sour cream and chives. Bread, already sliced and covered in butter. More food followed. A small bunch of green grapes, a red apple, an orange, a bar of chocolate. A carton of juice and a glass followed that. He set it all out neatly, his mouth twitching into a smile as he heard C.C.'s stomach growling loudly at the sight and smell of the food but not being able to get near it.

He – very slowly, to make her wait for it longer – took out the last item; a spoon, and he held up a hand to make her wait as she almost involuntarily twitched in the direction of the heavenly-looking and heavenly-smelling feast that lay before her.

"Don't make me take it all back," he at last looked up at her, and C.C. knew he meant it.

And she knew what she had to do, too.

"Thank you, sir, thank you so much," she said quietly, still not moving. If she wanted the food, she'd have to wait for his express command.

Thomas' lips curled up into a smile. She was learning. "You are welcome. Now eat," he gave her the spoon and stood up so she could seat. "I've also decided to let you take a bath afterwards."

C.C. felt like crying, but she didn't know if it was out of happiness or anguish. The entire situation in which she was in was terrible, but he clearly was rewarding her good behaviour. Not to get her wrong, it sickened her to have to subject herself to his wishes, but she knew that her survival was intrinsically connected to his good mood and willingness to give her food.

She didn't really know what to expect from then onwards, but she'd try her best not to irk him.

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir," she looked down at her food and took a deep breath. Just when she was about to take the first bite, Thomas cleared his throat and she stopped, her heart racing.

"Did I give you permission to eat?"

C.C. wanted to cry. Please... please don't let him take away her food. Not now... she wouldn't be able to bear it. God... how could she be so stupid?!

She lowered the spoon and her head. "No, sir. Forgive me."

The kidnapper smiled once again and patted her head. She had to fight the urge to bat his hand away.

"Good, little woman," he cooed maliciously. "You are learning and I shall be forgiving this time. In retribution for my kindness, however, you are to cook my dinner tonight. But for now, you are allowed to begin your meal.

C.C. felt relief washing over her once again. "Thank you, sir."

Thomas nodded and leaned against the wall; he was going to observe her eating.

Meanwhile, C.C. very carefully took one piece of the buttered bread in her hands, cut it in half and finally took a bite. She ate slowly, savouring everything she could. After so much starvation, she couldn't handle eating too much at once, even if she wanted to, anyway. And there was always the fear that if she ate quickly her captor would take it away from her, for behaving like an animal.

Not that he was treating her like she was human.

 _"There, now..."_ the voice in her head was back, and she had to suppress her annoyance. She couldn't let it show. She didn't want Thomas to know what was going on in her head.

 _"You see? You find this interaction soothing_ ," the voice was gentle, and it was calming her. _"And you're right not to let him in like that. Comply with whatever else he tells you to do, but don't ever let him think he's won."_

"How am I supposed to do that when he's stood there watching me eat food that he had to give me permission to eat?" she thought back. The voice was in her head anyway, so she might as well follow by example. She busied her mouth with finishing up the bread, and digging her spoon into the risotto to start eating that.

 _"As long as I'm still here, you'll know he hasn't,"_ the voice said. _"And as long as people out there care about you and are looking for you, you'll know he hasn't. And you know, whether you'll admit it to yourself or not, the real Niles will never stop looking."_

"It's the least he can do," she thought back, taking another spoonful of risotto. "It's his fault that this happened in the first place."

There was a long and unsettling silence from the voice, and part of C.C. couldn't help but imagine the piercing look that Niles would have been giving her. She could almost see his bright, blue eyes staring into hers, hurt and angry – the same look he gave her after a particularly nasty zinger or prank from her part.

It was a look of pure pain and reproach.

 _"You know that is not true,"_ the voice eventually said; it spoke so quietly she barely heard it. _"You know that Thomas had been stalking you for a while."_

"Shut up!" she mentally screamed, making a gargantuan effort to not let Thomas see her inner turmoil. The last thing she needed was him thinking that there was something wrong with the food and taking it away under the pretence of her being ungrateful or picky. "If... if he hadn't made that prank I would have never stormed out of the hospital or bumped into Thomas or gotten into his car!"

 _"He would have found another chance to take you, and you know it."_

C.C. chose not to answer this time. It hurt too much and she didn't know what to say to argue back. She needed to blame someone, and the butler was an easy target.

 _"If he is so guilty, then why do you miss him so much and crave for his company?"_ the voice insisted.

C.C. took a rather large bite of her baked potato. It tasted great, but the anguish was preventing her from really enjoying her meal.

"Is the food of your liking?" Thomas interrupted, knowing the answer but wanting to hear the words coming from her anyway.

To be honest, C.C. was kind of thankful for him speaking up – he had interrupted her thoughts and had spared her of having to answer a more than difficult question.

She finished her mouthful, swallowing heavily.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," she replied, trying to return to her meal at an ordinary pace. She had to make it look like nothing was wrong, even if the voice inside her head was trying its best to keep up its defence of the person it represented.

 _"Tell me why,"_ it seemed to demand, louder than it had been but still quiet.

She kept eating, and Thomas smirked.

"Good," he said. "You will wash and put away your dishes when you are done, and then you shall be allowed to have your shower."

"Yes sir," C.C. took in another mouthful of potato. "Thank you, sir."

 _"You know exactly why you miss him so much, why you crave his company, why you hear his voice in your head to remind you to stay alive_ ," the voice was even louder this time. Almost as loud as Thomas could be when he got frightening. Only it was coming from within. _"How much would it kill you, compared to all this, to say just once that he is the reason you're fighting so hard?"_

"I'm not going to say it," she thought, finishing the potato off. She left the skin because she had nothing to eat it with, and anything that could make her look unmannered at the table wasn't something she could afford.

She then took the chocolate bar, peeled off the wrapper and took a few bites – her stomach was full (it had shrunk due to having been starved for so long) but she was craving to finish the meal; he first real meal in a long while. Besides, she didn't know how Thomas would react to her not eating the whole dinner, and she'd rather not find out.

She shoved the rest of the chocolate down her throat and then she continued with the grapes and the apple, using the juice to wash it down. But when she tried to take a bite of the orange, she simply couldn't stomach it. She was too full to eat anything else.

"If you are not hungry you can save it for later," the kidnapper said softly as he began gathering the remnants of her meal and putting them inside the basket.

C.C. tried to not look as surprised as she felt. She had thought he'd get mad at her or that she'd be punished for not eating all the food he had brought down for her, but it seemed Thomas didn't really mind...

This gesture of "kindness" made her suspect that him having something in mind.

"Thank you sir, I'll store it for later," C.C. scuttled to her drawers and tucked the fruit between two of the oversized sweatshirts that Thomas had given her as clothing. She had lost so much weight in such a short time that the clothes he had given her barely fit her anymore. They were too big for her, and she couldn't bring herself to ask for smaller garments.

The kidnapper had moved towards the ladder whilst she had stored the orange, and he soon motioned for her to come closer to him. She knew they were to go upstairs, towards the shower, and she couldn't help but heave a small sigh of relief. She needed this shower as much as she needed air.

How they'd do it, she still didn't know, but she could almost feel the heavenly feeling of the water running down her body, cleaning the filth from her days inside the cellar.

"Give me your hands," Thomas ordered, and C.C. obeyed. The kidnapper took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and fastened them around her wrists. "Now climb up the ladder and wait for me," he grabbed her hair and yanked at it; C.C. had to suppress a whimper. "I warn you, I have a gun and I won't hesitate to use it if I have to. So don't try anything weird. Is it clear?"

C.C. nodded. She wouldn't dream about misbehaving right then. Even if the idea of escaping was tempting, she knew her chances of succeeding were almost null, and she wasn't willing to risk her chance of cleaning herself for anything in the world.

"Yes sir," she said.

"Good. Now move."

They climbed the stairs and went up the narrow corridor until they emerged to the garage through a hole on the garage floor. C.C. noticed it would normally be covered with a washing machine. Part of her soul died a little when she saw that – the chances of someone hearing or finding her were impossibly low...

She didn't have much time to dwell in her depressing thoughts though; Thomas was soon stood by her side and he practically dragged her into the kitchen through the garage door. She attempted to go to the sink so as to clean the dishes, but he stopped her and pulled her alongside him as he took them to the upstairs landing.

"You'll clean after your shower, and then you'll prepare dinner."

"Yes sir," she muttered, keeping her gaze to the floor.

The rest of the way to Thomas' bathroom was covered in silence, and he practically shoved her inside it when they reached it. He then removed her handcuffs and locked the door, leaving both of them inside the bathroom.

"Take off your clothes," he commanded as he opened the taps and started regulating the water temperature.

Take...off her clothes? With him still stood there?

She should have expected this. The guy was sick, and this was the kind of thing sick people did. She had hoped someone would come and find her, or she'd find some way to leave, before anything like this happened.

But no one was coming to save her, and she couldn't save herself without the risk of being killed.

But she couldn't move. Her heart was pounding, and her mouth was drying out as her breathing began to grow unsteady. She didn't want him there, not in the room with her when she did this...

"Do it!" he snarled, causing her to start. "Or I'll take them off for you!"

She reached for her shirt, preparing to obey, but still she hesitated.

And suddenly the voice was back again, _"Just do it. I don't like it any more than you do, but you mustn't risk finding out what will happen if you don't."_

It was right... but the urge to cry was almost overwhelming her. She didn't want him to see her naked – she didn't want to be humiliated like this! But what could she do? She certainly didn't want Thomas to snap at her again; she'd had been enough beatings and starvation as it was.

She took a deep, calming breath and carefully peeled off her shirt, looking away from her captor. He was smirking, and it was sickening. She knew he loved to have this power over her – to have her at his mercy – but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting him see just how uncomfortable she felt.

 _"It's going to be alright_ ," the voice said as C.C. continued removing her clothes. She was only in her panties now. _"We are going to be alright. Remember that time when you caught me dancing in my underwear?"_

C.C. had to choke back a sob. Of course she remembered... it had been one of the best afternoons of her year! He had been caught off guard, and she had milked the event for all its worth. Niles had been mortified, and it was a memory she treasured.

 _"Think about it,"_ the voice continued as the last piece of clothing slipped down her body, leaving her completely exposed. She tried not to glance at herself in the mirror – she knew she was underweight, but she'd rather not see it. _"About Niles dancing to Old Time Rock n' Roll."_

"Get into the shower and sit down," Thomas ordered.

C.C. did so very slowly, a melody beginning to play inside her head.

Meanwhile, Thomas spurted shampoo on his hand and began cleaning her blonde locks.

 _"... just take those old records off the shelf_..." the voice sang.

"Lean your head back so I can clean it better," Thomas ordered and she complied.

 _"... I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself..."_

She closed her eyes. She didn't want to see him over her like this, running his fingers roughly through her hair.

 _"Today's music ain't got the same soul..."_

"Lean forwards," came the next command.

She bent her head, and his hands worked at the hair near the back of her neck.

 _"I like that old time rock and roll!"_

She kept her mind focused on that. On the image of Niles; the white shirt and boxers, the socks with suspenders, the feather duster being used as a substitute microphone...

It didn't make everything better. But it did keep her from screaming.

 _"Don't try to take me to a disco..."_

She knew it was only going to get worse from here on out. Now that Thomas had done this, he was obviously going to want – and expect – more. But with the image of Niles in her head, she might just survive all of it.

It almost made her want to admit to the thing she refused to in the cellar. But now wasn't the time. She had to focus on the words, and on the image of the man she missed so much doing something which had made her happy, even if he hadn't meant to.

She wondered, if she ever saw him again, if they might dance together.

 _"You'll never even get me out on the floor..."_

But she had gotten him out on the floor. That time when he had been her date for the Broadway Guild Awards they had spent the night dancing, and the same had happened when she had accompanied him to his friend's wedding.

They really liked to dance...

God, how she missed dancing with him!

 _"Remember that time at my friend's wedding?"_ Niles' voice whispered – it was almost as though he was right there with her. _"When we danced to 'Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall'?"_

She did. The day of the wedding had been pouring, and they had actually danced it just before they had left back for the mansion.

 _"Into each life some rain must fall. But too much is falling in mine. Into each heart some tears must fall. But some day the sun will shine. Some folks can lose the blues in their hearts. But when I think of you another shower starts. Into each life some rain must fall. But too much is falling in mine,"_ the voice sang once again.

She was lucky that the shower was running; otherwise Thomas would have noticed her tears. She wanted to stay hopeful and to believe that the sun would eventually come out from behind the black clouds that were surrounding her, but right then it was so hard...

And she missed him so much!

"Lean your head back again," Thomas ordered as he took the conditioner in his hands.

C.C. did so.

The shower had been on for five minutes, at most, but to her it felt like an eternity. She wanted it to end already; to be downstairs, completely dressed and with his hands far away from her body. One he had rinsed the conditioner from her hair, he handed her a sponge and a bar of soap.

"Clean yourself. You have two minutes and I'll turn off the water. I won't care if you are done or not."

C.C. felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her frail shoulders. She had dreaded the idea of Thomas cleaning any other part of her body apart from her hair. As long as he didn't touch her, then she wouldn't complain.

"Yes sir," she replied, scrubbing the bar of soap against the sponge. She then began cleaning herself, trying to ignore the fact that he was observing her every movement with rapt attention.

Once she had finished cleaning herself and washing off the soap from her body, Thomas closed the taps and gave her a towel and a set of clean (and smaller) clothes.

"Dry yourself and get dressed," he ordered. "You have three minutes."

"Yes, sir," she stepped out of the shower, and wiped herself down with the towel as quickly as possible. She didn't know how long she usually took to dry off and dress herself after a shower, but she doubted if she'd ever done it in three minutes or less.

Well, she had to do it now. She knew she wasn't fully dry, and that made slipping on the clothes difficult, not to mention uncomfortable.

But all the while, she didn't complain.

 _"Good,"_ the voice was back again. _"You're doing just fine. Remember; you're still alive. He's not winning. He will never win. And I'm right here."_

How she wished he was right there. All the feelings she'd been trying to avoid in the cellar were coming back, full-force. She didn't know if it was because of what had just happened, if she had changed her mind about trying to avoid them, or what, but she couldn't think about anything else.

 _"Better than thinking about what just happened,"_ the voice told her.

That was probably it. Niles was a much nicer thought than everything else going on around her...

Finally, noticing she was done, Thomas unlocked the door.

"Go out first, and wait on the landing. We're going downstairs, and you're going to clean up from your meal and you're going to prepare my dinner."

"Yes, sir," C.C. muttered, scurrying out of the bathroom and going towards the landing. She noticed there was a window right before it, but the curtain was drawn, preventing her from seeing the outside world. Part of her wanted to jump to the window and attempt to scream for help.

But it would be useless... she could hear her captor's fast approaching steps – if she attempted anything then she'd be a dead woman.

Well... she only hoped she'd survive her next task. This would her first time cooking, and she could only hope she wouldn't ruin it. She knew what would happen if she did. She had been reading cooking books and learnt some recipes. C.C. could only hope it was enough to satisfy him.

There was something oddly painful about the thought of cooking. She'd give anything to be in the mansion, working herself to exhaustion (as usual) and having Niles bring her freshly cooked dinner. He'd always deliver a zinger when he did so, but now that she thought about it she couldn't help but notice just how attentive he was to her eating and taking a break from time to time.

She blinked back the tears. She had to be strong...

"Let's go," Thomas commanded, grabbing her by the arm and interrupting her thoughts.

As she moved, though, she couldn't help but wonder if Niles was thinking about her.

* * *

Niles had to blink a few times, not quite knowing if what he had seen was a trick of the light or what he thought it was.

After that disturbing phone call, he had taken to drive past Thomas' house once or twice a day, just to see if he found anything suspicious. He had never seen anything or anyone apart from the shady stage manager.

That was until a few moments ago.

He didn't have a clear view of the window, but he could see it well enough to notice the drawn curtains...

And the tall and extremely thin shadow stood almost unnaturally still behind it.

Surely, he'd recognise that shape anywhere...!

It was her! It _had_ to be her!

His heart started racing. He had to tell Lane, and fast. The longer it took, the more dreadful things would be done to C.C.. If he could tell the police and they went in searching properly, they could very well find her! The bastard would be arrested. C.C. would be taken to a hospital for treatment, and then she'd be allowed to go. Anywhere she chose.

He hoped very much that she would choose to go with him. He no longer had anything stopping him from wanting to tell her that he loved her. All of this had made him realise that life was far too short for that. He wanted to be able to see her home from the hospital, a light fuelled by relief in her eyes as she allowed herself to be wrapped in his embrace...

But he couldn't guarantee that she would. It was still his fault everything had ended up this way. She might be angry – no, more than angry. Enraged, and rightfully so. What if she never wanted to see him again? He almost didn't want to be himself any more for causing all of this to happen. He wanted her to know how sorry he was, but there was no guarantee she'd forgive.

Another part of him told him that didn't matter. As long as she was safe and well. He already knew that her loving him back was a long, if not impossible, shot, so why would it change after this? The best he could hope for was that everyone would move on, out of danger, happy and free.

And that would happen as soon as he called Lane.

But something else was nagging him, too; was a shadow behind a curtain really enough evidence? The more balanced part of his rational mind told him that Thomas could have anyone over at his house. Unlikely, because the man gave off the creepiest vibes Niles had ever experienced from another human being, but that didn't mean someone else couldn't be there.

And Lane would almost certainly tell him that, too. A shadow meant nothing. Unless he actually saw the blonde, he had nothing.

So what should he do?! There was a big part of himself almost screaming that the shadow belonged to C.C., but what if he was wrong? What if he caused an inconvenience? What if Lane decided that he shouldn't be part of the case anymore?

There were too many variables to consider.

The more he stared at it, however, the more he doubted himself. Perhaps it was just a trick of his mind – he wanted to find her, and the man was creepy, so wouldn't it be possible that he was just blaming him because he needed to have someone to blame apart from himself? Maybe this was just a trick of his imagination...

Maybe it was his desire to see her what was making him believe that the shadow was C.C..

Besides, the producer wasn't that thin when she disappea-

And it hit Niles like a ton of bricks. He clearly remembered the kidnapper starving her! God... that could really be her! And by the sight of her shadow, she looked dreadfully skinny. Suddenly, he noticed another broader shadow – Thomas' shadow, he reckoned – approaching the thin one; the latter almost jumped when the Thomas appeared. It was obviously afraid of him.

Niles then saw how Thomas yanked at the smaller shadow's arm and practically dragged it behind him, not caring if the other shadow stumbled or lost its footing. He frowned. C.C. or not, something was definitely wrong inside that house. But, because of the curtain, he still had nothing definite, other than the fact that something was moving in a very odd fashion behind it.

The veil the fabric drew between the interior and the outside world was just too thick, and it created too much doubt. There was no way for sure that he could claim anything bad was going on inside. All he had to go by was his feeling.

And that was nowhere near enough to be considered evidence.

He could feel the frustration boiling up inside him. If only that curtain wasn't drawn across! He was mostly, if not entirely, convinced he'd see C.C. stood right there if it wasn't. And surely, the man had to have something to hide if he had drawn that curtain so early in the evening.

Again, Lane would say that didn't constitute proof.

He'd have to dig a little deeper. Maybe a lot deeper.

He'd have to get some evidence for himself.

How he'd do that? He didn't know yet. But he was tired of playing by the police's rules. They weren't doing anything useful! They needed proof of everything, and the procedures were disgustingly bureaucratised...

At the rate that they were going, they'd never find C.C., and he couldn't allow that to happen.

He needed a well formed plan; one that he knew wouldn't fail. But, as much as he loathed to say so, right then his hands were tied. He couldn't kick the door down (even if he wanted to) so there was no other possibility but to leave and start planning what he'd do.

He reluctantly turned on the car engine once again and he began his way back to the mansion.

He could only hope that she'd be alright by the time he was able to do something.

* * *

C.C. was shaking. Why did she have to be so stupid?! Why couldn't she cook a decent meal?! She had followed the recipe to the line and yet here she was…

How on Earth was she going to explain this to her kidnapper?!

She had not only burnt one steak – she had burnt three. All the steaks that Thomas had bought that week. He had ordered her to prepare him steak with mashed potatoes for dinner, and although she had been able to prepare the mashed potatoes with ease, the steaks were ruined.

"Claire?" Thomas called out, his steps coming closer. "What is that awful sme-"

He trailed off as he entered the kitchen, and his surprise at the ruined meal soon turned into anger. He glared at her, crossed the kitchen in three big strides and gave her such a hard slap that she fell to the floor.

"You stupid woman!" he screamed, gabbing her by the collar of her shirt. "You are dumber than a dog!"

And another slap.

"Three perfectly good steaks are now ruined!"

And a kick to the stomach.

He dropped her collar, sending her back to the floor again with a yelp that quickly became tears.

"I'm sorry, sir!" she sobbed. "Please, forgive me...! I don't know how I-"

Another slap, taking the words from her before they left her mouth.

"Quiet!" he barked, pacing right by her as he seethed. "No one wants to hear your excuses, least of all me. You can't even cook meat right, useless bitch."

C.C. stayed down, sobbing. She still didn't know how she'd managed to do it, and the insults were hurting her deeply. She was feeling just as useless as he said she was.

 _"Don't,"_ the voice was back again, softer in her state of fear. _"You just had the oven up a little too high."_

"Well, look who just came back to prove himself a gourmet," she thought bitterly. Why now, of all times, did he have to be bothering her?

If he'd been there, she was almost completely certain she'd see his face morph into a frown, _"I'm trying to tell you that there is nothing wrong with you. You are not useless, no matter what he says."_

She honestly didn't know how to reply to that. She felt useless, worthless, and honestly, every day that went past found herself wondering how was it that she – The Bitch of Broadway no less – had been reduced to a bruised and crying mess.

Had she really been that strong in the past? Now confronting someone was the last thing she felt she could do...

 _"You are strong,"_ the voice insisted. _"He is a monster, and you are fighting bravely."_

"I can't do this..." she thought back, wanting to feel Niles' arms around her more than ever before. "I am not strong enough."

 _"Yes you are!"_ Niles' imaginary voice insisted. _"Who made grown made cry? Who made Sheffield productions be what it is today? Who became my sparring partner after that first time I put salt in your coffee when you were just hired as a secretary?"_

The words were comforting – more comforting than she could possibly explain. She didn't feel strong, but his words made her realise that maybe she was.

 _"Who did all those impressive things?"_ the voice asked again.

"I did..." she muttered to herself.

"What the hell did you just say?!" Thomas snapped, going back to her. He grabbed her by her shirt and slammed her against the wall. "Don't you dare talk back to me!" he snarled and gave her another slap. "Thanks to your idiocy I will have to go have dinner out."

The kidnapper let her go, got back to his feet and grabbed the three burnt steaks. He turned to face her again and threw the food to her lap. "You are going to eat them all! And when I come back, you better have finished them."

He then yanked her by the hair and dragged her back to the cellar. He pushed her through the hole on the garage floor, dragged her down the narrow corridor that gave to her prison and he finally threw her into her cellar, closing the trap door behind him.

C.C. crawled to her mattress, sobbing and whimpering in pain, and began to eat the steaks, not willing to risk what would happen to her if she didn't. She could attempt to hide them, but there was too great a risk of him finding them, and then she'd be in worse trouble.

And as she gagged on the overly cooked food being sent into her stomach, which was still more than slightly full from earlier, she wondered how things could possibly get worse.

* * *

On his way back, something had forced Niles to turn around.

Something just hadn't been feeling right. It was like his instincts were telling him to turn back.

He'd tried to ignore it at first, but it eventually became too strong for him to push to the back of his mind, and he'd just had to turn the car around. He was surprised by the sight of Thomas, scowling behind the wheel of his own car, as he headed in the opposite direction.

He didn't know where the stage manager was going, but he didn't care. This was his opportunity to go in and take a look around! In a best case scenario, he'd find C.C. alive and well. They'd escape together, and could give a testimony that would incriminate Thomas and make sure he was jailed.

In a worst case scenario...well, in his mind, there were actually two. The first would be that there was no evidence whatsoever that C.C. was there, or had ever been there. That would mean they'd have to start the search for her all over again, which would give her kidnapper time to hurt her more, or take her even further away.

The second scenario tied for worst case involved finding her as well. But it was a situation in which only one of them would be able to give a testimony. The other...he couldn't even think about it.

The idea of finding a body was too awful.

He stepped on the gas and covered the few blocks that separated him from Thomas house in barely five minutes. Seeing as he didn't know when Thomas would be back, he knew was running against time. He had to be quick if he wanted to check the whole house.

Form the outside, it looked like any other suburban house in New York – the only difference being that both the front lawn and the fence that surrounded it were unkempt. But otherwise, the house was unpolluted; the windows were clean, the facade was well painted and kept in perfect condition and there was even a disturbingly clean doormat that read "Welcome".

It truly wasn't a place that someone would expect to find a kidnapped millionaire, but something inside Niles just knew there was something off about the house. It was as though its perfection and neatness was a cover for something much darker and dangerous – something to which C.C. could be exposed to right that moment.

He parked the car a few meters ahead of the house and scuttled to it. He didn't know how he'd get in yet, but he'd have to find a way to do so without leaving any traces behind. Considering it was a common practice in America, he checked for a spare key underneath the doormat, then underneath the flower pots on the porch, inside the mailbox...

But to no avail.

"Bloody Hell," he muttered as he made his way towards the garage. If the latter wasn't open, then he had no way of sneaking in without calling the attention. He couldn't risk breaking something and then having C.C. pay for his intrusion, like what had happened the time he had been called.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to manually open the garage door...

And, much to his relief, it worked!

Thomas must have left it unlocked when he left in a haste! That was what he called a stroke of luck. He looked around; everything looked relatively ordinary...

Everything except the washing machine.

It was considerably bigger than any other he had ever seen, so he carefully made his way over. But as he was about to get to it, something caught his attention from the corner of his eyes. The door that gave to the kitchen was open, and the room was a mess. There was an awful smell of burnt food wafting out of it, and there were a number of used pans and kitchen utensils scattered across the counter.

He felt a shiver running down his spine when he noticed the few red droplets that were staining the floor near the over. It looked like blood...

He felt sick. More than sick. If that was C.C.'s...

The minute he had full proof of his guilt, he was going to kill Thomas.

But the pessimistic side of him reminded him of the important factor in that. He had no proof. There could be any number of reasons the kitchen was in the state it was; Thomas could have been angry because he'd burned the food, not paying attention, and cut himself on something. Then he'd left the house to go to the emergency room.

A little blood and messy kitchen did not prove a kidnapping.

If only it did. His anxiety was growing worse the longer he had it.

It was making him do things he'd never thought he'd dream of doing. Breaking into another person's home, for instance. He had to keep looking around. He couldn't touch the room in any way, lest C.C. was really there and could be punished for any slight error on his part. He slipped past, into the living room.

Nothing out of the ordinary, even if the place did give him chills. He supposed that was the idea that C.C. could be being held somewhere so ordinary, suffering in a place that was supposed to comfort people...

He checked everything over carefully. The bookshelves, the furniture...everything was frustratingly in order.

By the look of the two rooms he had visited, there was nothing out of the ordinary in that house (apart from the fact that it give him the creeps). But he still had to check the upstairs landing, he reminded himself. For all he knew C.C. could be locked inside one of those rooms, and the only thing separating her from freedom was a locked door.

Keeping this hope in his heart, Niles made his way upstairs. The house counted with two rooms (one of them en-suite) and a second bathroom. The first room he visited was Thomas' study; inside it he only found documents related to work (such as sketches for the different plays he was working in), old books, a TV set, among some other trinkets.

Nothing special, really.

He moved to the master bedroom, feeling his frustration growing. How could it be that there was nothing! There had to be something...

Those blood droplets were something, a stubborn part of his mind kept repeating, but he forced himself to shove those thoughts to the back of his mind as he scanned the room. The bedroom was as big as Maxwell's, and it was spotless. The bed was made, there wasn't dust over any surface, and everything sat on their rightful place...

It was infuriating.

At least, until he went into the bathroom. Inside it he found a little heap of filthy clothes lying in the far left corner of the bathroom; the T-shirt was far too small for a man like Thomas and it was stained with God knows what. There was also a pair of underwear that made Niles hair stand on end – it wasn't female underwear, but the size was XS. Too small for the stage manager.

That's when he also noticed the odd pick for hair conditioner and shampoo – it was a brand mainly used by women. And it was a shampoo for straight hair too…

It didn't add up. None of it did.

Someone else was living inside that house, but where were they?!

Thomas had definitely been alone in his car. And a person wouldn't go out and leave a guest behind. And a guest wouldn't take off their clothes in the bathroom, or use the shower...

His knees almost gave out at the thought that it could be C.C., having to take off everything and expose herself to a monster...

But no sight of C.C. still meant no proof, and that made him want to scream, and cry, and rage until he'd torn the house apart. If pounding the walls until they fell like the walls of Jericho was what it took for him to find the producer, then that is what he would do.

But if she wasn't there, and this was all just a sinister coincidence, then he had no right to be there. Not that he did right then anyway, but his sense of justice and yearning to find her was far outweighing any sense of guilt at the prospect of having broken into someone's home.

He kept looking, leaving everything right where it was. It was another annoyance that he couldn't take anything with him in case it could be useful, but if anything went missing, Thomas would know.

There was nothing... absolutely nothing.

He felt like a time bomb about to explode – how could it be?! She had to be there! But, even if she was, the man clearly knew how to hide her.

There wasn't anything exactly wrong with the house per se, but there were so many details that didn't add up! The messy kitchen, the almost abnormal impeccable state of the house, the small clothes in the bathroom, the hair products...

He couldn't quite put the puzzle together. Niles felt like there was one missing key piece, but he had no idea what it was or where he could find it.

Maybe he had her hidden somewhere else?

That could be a possibility... Thomas holding the producer in some kind of secret prison outside the house.

It was obvious what he had to do.

He had to follow him around – to spy on him and his daily routine. He knew that neither Thomas nor Lane could find about his plan, but he was good at being secretive. After all, he had years of practice.

Heaving a defeated sigh, Niles hurried out of the house, passing by the strange washing machine once again but completely ignoring it.

Completely ignoring that only a few feet beneath his feet, was the woman he was so desperately looking for.

* * *

 **AN: Thank you all so much for your reviews! Your support is truly what keeps us going! Here we give you another chapter. We hope you like it and we are always happy to hear your comments.**

 **H &L**


	8. Chapter 8

**_Chapter 7_**

 ** _Warning Sings_**

The weeks went past, and since the incident in the kitchen, she hadn't been allowed outside her cell again. There were a few exceptions, of course, like when Thomas ordered her to clean, do the laundry or cook his meals, but otherwise she was kept underground.

She didn't really mind – being in her cellar meant that she was away from Thomas.

Problem was, the silence inside the cellar was becoming maddening – not to mention the fact that Thomas had only fed her twelve times in six weeks.

She could barely believe she had been kidnapped for three months now...

The boredom was definitely starting to get to her. She found herself talking more and more often to that little voice in her head, and she was getting close to being able to visualise the butler every time she did.

Not that it was really so unpleasant.

 _"Not unpleasant at all, I think you'll find,"_ it piped up at that moment, when she was sat going through the books that Thomas had left for her. She'd let her mind wander because there was nothing else to stimulate her. She knew each book by heart at this stage. _"You take his image with you when you go to sleep."_

She wasn't going to say that out loud. She didn't have to. Thinking about the butler as she went to sleep had helped on more than one occasion. Seeing his face in her mind was calming, and it gave her new hope every night that the next day would finally be the day she saw him again.

It wasn't a blanket to keep out the cold, but it made her feel warm, and it helped her to live through yet another day. But drifting into a daydream wasn't going to help alleviate the boredom forever. She needed something more stimulating than that, especially when she was feeling at her most down.

Maybe she could ask her captor for another book? She had been good all this time. Hadn't burned a single thing, and the surfaces upstairs were so shiny, you could see your face in them.

As if on cue, the trap door was opened by the vile man who was keeping her as a prisoner, and – much to her delight – he brought with him a basket full of food. That only happened when he was truly pleased with her behaviour.

She stood up to receive him, as usual, and Thomas indicated for her to take the chair as he lay the basket on the table. She could spot a precious "gift" from his part – a bottle of Diet Coke.

"Time for lunch, Claire," he said in a strangely affable tone. He helped her take out the different treats from the basket – two slices of homemade bread, butter, grilled salmon with salad, a pack of m&m's and a banana. This was, by far, the most she had been allowed to eat in a long, long time.

"Thank you, sir," she said, awaiting for her captor to give her the cutlery.

"Dig in," he said, finally giving her permission to eat.

After she had satiated her overwhelming hunger, the blonde briefly put down the cutlery and looked at her captor. He noticed her strange behaviour and his brow furrowed.

"Sir..." she spoke in a very soft voice. "May I speak?"

He gave her a grunt as an answer. She supposed it meant yes.

"I... I was wondering if I... if I could have a new book. I have gone through the ones you have so kindly given me and-"

"Which one was your favourite?" he interrupted her, looking at her with interest.

C.C. hesitated. Why was he asking that? What should she answer? It sometimes baffled her just how hard taking any type of decision had become.

 _"Be truthful,"_ the voice encouraged. _"He is in a good mood – take advantage of it. Come on, Babcock, I know that the cutthroat businesswoman in you still knows when to take an opportunity."_

Well... it was right.

"The... the music one, sir. The one that teaches how to play the guitar."

Thomas arched an amused eyebrow. "You want to play the guitar?"

"I..." C.C. casted her gaze to the floor and wrung her hands in apprehension. "Ye-yes, sir, I'd love to play the guitar."

Her captor appeared to consider this, and she held her breath.

What would he say? He didn't look in a bad mood, but it had reached a point where she couldn't always tell anymore.

If he said no, he could do it without a moment's hesitation and he'd probably give her a sound slap to boot, before ordering her to never ask for such a thing ever again.

If he said yes...

Why would he say yes? Other than the fact that she had been good. It wasn't like she could do much harm with a musical instrument. At one stage, she would have been strong enough to lift the guitar up and do actual damage with it, but now she was far too weak.

Too weak to do anything, except sit in her own personal Hell and play away her suffering.

Thomas clicked his tongue a couple of times before answering, "...Alright. Your behaviour has been acceptable enough these past few weeks. I'll see about getting you a guitar."

C.C. bowed her head, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

She was relieved, in some ways. At least with a guitar, she could break the silence and retain her sanity. She didn't like having to do all this just to prevent that, but she had no other choice. And she was getting her guitar, if he lived up to his word.

"As a matter of fact," he spoke again, a strange smile playing across his lips. "I will get it today, after I go grocery shopping."

"Really?!" she practically squealed, excitement permeating from her every word. "Thank you, sir!"

Thomas waved a dismissive hand, tucking the empty plates inside the basked – she only had left her banana, her m&m's and half a bottle of Diet Coke. "It's alright. In retribution, however, you are to clean the kitchen while I am gone."

C.C.'s eyes widened. Seldom did Thomas leave her alone upstairs when he was out. Of course he'd tie one of her feet to a long metal chain (which he chained to the kitchen table's base, making it impossible for her to leave the room), disconnect the phone and close the drapes, but it was better than being underground.

Why was he being so permissive today? She knew her captor, and he was anything but selfless. Every good action had a reason of being. She knew that he wasn't about to start treating her better.

"Are we clear, Claire?" he asked, starting her out of her thoughts.

"Yes, sir, perfectly clear."

"Excellent. When I get back I expect our dinner ready," he said.

" _O-our_ dinner?" the producer stuttered, not quite believing her ears. She was never allowed to eat alongside him – she was to serve him while he ate.

"Indeed. You see, today is a special day – a day where we'll take a new step in our relationship. Tonight, you won't be sleeping in the cellar, you'll be sharing a bed with me. For now, we'll do so every Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays."

And all of a sudden, she felt like she'd been hit by a train. She wished she had, to be quite honest.

All of her previous excitement about getting something she'd wanted had vanished.

Share a bed with him? She felt like she was going to be sick. And the need only got worse the longer the words "our relationship" circled around in her head.

They didn't have a relationship. They had a hostage situation.

 _"And sometimes hostages have to do things under duress,"_ the voice was back again.

"This?!" was the only coherent thought C.C. had as a reply. She supposed the static-y buzz filling up the rest of her brain was something akin to every sense she had screaming in fear and protest and any other negative emotion that it was possible for a human being to have.

 _"Sometimes,"_ the voice replied, calm and collected, if sounding a little upset. _"Survival is the important part. You can't make him angry."_

"I know," she snapped at it. To herself, of course. "But God, I don't want to do this, I don't want to be here..."

 _"And if you could be anywhere else, I know you would be_ ," the voice tried to soothe. _"But it's not possible. So the pair of us have to just bunker down and wait until it's all over."_

All over. It could be years until anything was all over. But when she was watched at most turns and locked or chained when she wasn't, there was nothing she could do except wait.

Wait, and bide her time.

 _"That's exactly right,"_ the voice agreed _. "And you'd better answer him, before he gets angry for you not listening."_

She did so aloud, immediately, "Yes, sir."

"Excellent!" the kidnapper exclaimed, moving towards the ladder. "Grab your treats, you can finish them upstairs. I have some errands to run, and the faster I do so, the faster I'll be back with your guitar."

C.C. leapt to her feet, not because she was excited for the guitar (although it was some sort of consolation prize) but because she knew Thomas hated being delayed. She put on her shoes, grabbed her apron – which was hanging from the chair – stored her treats inside her pocket and finally grabbed one of her cooking books and her reading glasses.

He allowed her to climb up the ladder first, as usual, and they went up the narrow tunnel and into the garage in no time. She could see the day outside was awful – it was raining and the sky was overcast, but at least it made her happy. She loved to hear the sound of rain falling down.

She stayed still as Thomas chained her to the base of the kitchen table (it was made of stone, so she had no chance of escaping) and she then helped her into his coat.

"I'll be back in a few hours – you can use the TV set in the kitchen if you want. The remote is over the fridge," he gave her a warning look. "You know the rules, no food except the one I gave you. If you take something, I'll know, alright?"

"Yes, sir," C.C. replied.

"I'll be back soon."

Thomas turned for the garage, but he hesitated for a moment, turned on his heels and strode to C.C.. Given his penchant for beating her, C.C. almost automatically cowered in fear, but he merely laced an arm around her waist and pecked her lips.

"Goodbye, Claire."

He then turned on his heel and went out, leaving a stunned C.C. behind him.

The feeling of what had just happened, his arm around her and his lips on his, was making her skin crawl. But at least she'd left him in a good mood. And if she got going on everything she had left to do, she might avoid another beating for a while.

She started on the cleaning. It would be easier to work on a meal – a meal for two this time! – in a clean environment, with pots and pans that weren't full of the remains of the last time she cooked.

She wasn't going to eat the snacks she had left. If she was lucky, she'd be allowed to save them. And, if she was lucky, she'd be able to save herself, too.

But none of that would happen if she didn't keep going with her work. She filled the sink with soapy water, and began to scrub at the pans. She might not have liked it, but keeping her captor happy was her only chance at survival.

It was her only chance at getting out.

It was her only chance at seeing Niles again.

* * *

Niles had been in the supermarket for almost an hour, but he hadn't picked up a single thing on his shopping list.

He'd walked through the door, and almost immediately spotted the man he was sure was guilty directly in front of him, brazenly going about his shopping as though nothing was wrong with the world.

If he was what the butler thought he was, then to him there probably wasn't anything wrong with the world.

So, instead of picking up the supplies the Sheffields had both needed and requested, he'd been spending his time glaring at Thomas from behind shelves and stacks of produce, watching his every move and waiting for him to do something that would prove his guilt.

He knew he had to be careful so to Thomas wouldn't notice that he was stalking him, so he made sure to stay a few feet away, occasionally throwing some random item into his cart so as not to look suspicious to the other costumers.

He followed the stage manager through the different aisles but just as it had happened when he had broken into his home, the man didn't really pick anything that was "suspicious". Granted, he was buying a bit too much food for just one person, but that didn't mean he was keeping C.C. as his prisoner.

His choice of food, however, was more than a little interesting for the butler – mushrooms, rice, vegetables, a cheesecake... those were all foods that were liked by the producer.

Could it be just a coincidence?

He struggled to believe so.

Thomas looked far too in a good mood, as though he was looking forward to something, and the small smile he was wearing was unsettling Niles deeply. It was a strange smile... for even if it looked completely normal, Niles couldn't help but feel there was something off about it.

His uneasiness only increased when the stage manager veered towards the personal hygiene products. He made a stop at the men's area to grab deodorant and a pack of razor blades, but he then continued towards the lady's area.

In there the man quickly grabbed shampoo and conditioner, female deodorant and a pack of tampons.

That had to be evidence, surely! The man lived alone, and it was highly unlikely most of those items would ever be used by him. One of them certainly wouldn't be!

But how could he connect all of it to C.C.? Buying for a woman didn't necessarily mean he was buying for someone he was holding prisoner. He could be having guests over soon, which would explain the amount of food as well as the odd choice in hygiene products.

He decided to keep going, to follow the man all around the store and out if it were possible. He'd have to make sure he wasn't caught, but if he could get a glimpse inside that house again, to see if he was greeted by anyone...

Or if he brought someone out of a hidden place to greet him.

Thomas had started making his way into the next aisle, and he pushed his cart along to catch up, dropping a bottle of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner into the cart as he did. He seemed to remember Fran requesting it, even if he was too focused on other things to bother looking down and checking the list.

"Niles?"

His name being called was punctuated by a hand reaching out for his shoulder and spinning him round.

His eyes met a very familiar, slightly steely pair, before narrowing.

"Have you been following me, Detective Lane?" he asked.

"Just like you've been following Mr Joes," Lane replied, a hard edge to her tone. The butler could tell the policewoman was angry, but she was keeping a level voice given that they were in public.

Unbeknownst to Niles, Detective Lane was also trying to not let Thomas see them – he might suspect something and C.C. (if he was really holding her prisoner) could pay the price for her carelessness. She understood that the butler needed answers, but following Thomas Jones around wouldn't provide with the answers he was so desperately looking for.

Not to mention he was endangering the whole investigation!

"I... I am not following him around," Niles stuttered.

Both immediately knew that Lane hadn't bought his lie.

"What you are doing is not only reckless but irresponsible!" Detective Lane hissed. "You are endangering the investigation!"

"What investigation?!" the butler retorted, making an effort to not scream. His frustration was getting the best of him, and the longer he spent with Lane, the greater was the chance of Thomas getting away. "It's been three months and we aren't a step closer to finding her!"

"And do you honestly think following Thomas around will make her reappear?!"

"It is better than nothing!" he snarled. "That son of a bitch has her-"

"You don't know that!" Lane interrupted him. "There is no evidence! Nothing apart from him looking like the facial composite of C.C.'s kidnapper! You can't accost a man that is technically innocent!"

"He is only technically innocent because none of you have managed to find him guilty yet!" Niles argued back.

"We can't find a person guilty without evidence!" Lane retorted. "Don't you think I find the man and his behaviour highly suspicious, too? But there is nothing to be done until something concrete turns up!"

"And are you, any of you down at that station, doing anything that could be considered finding concrete evidence?" he paused for a few seconds, feigning waiting for an answer, and then turned back to his cart to try and start pushing it along. "I suppose you're all waiting for the man himself to give a written confession!"

Lane jogged a few paces to catch up with him storming off.

"A sighting. A DNA sample taken from something in his garbage. Anything," she spat, seemingly angry at herself as well as at him. "But we keep turning up nothing. If it is him, and I'm not saying it definitely is, he's being very careful. And if you're not more careful, you'll make him even more cautious."

She stopped his cart before he could move into the next aisle, and met his gaze again; firmly, securely, and completely seriously.

"If he gets the idea that he's still being investigated, by any of us looking for C.C., then it could be bad for her," she said. "If it's him, he could hurt her more, or move her further out of reach, or even worse. And we can't afford that. We can't rush things, for her sake."

"Rush things?!" Niles exclaimed in disbelief. "It's been three months already! You are doing anything but rushing things!"

"Do you think that these cases last a week? That they are child's play?" Lane stopped Niles again when he tried to scurry away towards the aisle where he had last seen Thomas. "Kidnappings are among the hardest crimes to solve! And as I said before, meddling in our investigation could represent a danger to C.C.."

"And as I said before, Lane," Niles glared at the grey-haired detective. "It is better than doing nothing!"

Lane glared back at Niles. She hadn't wanted to reach to this point, but she had no choice... if the butler didn't want to understand, then she'd make him. "Niles... need I remind you about the call you got a few months ago?"

The butler stiffened. Of course he remembered... C.C.'s howls of pain as she was punched still haunted his dreams.

"Well, if Thomas suspects you are following him around," Lane moved closer to Niles, her voice having become low and dangerous. "That could happen again. Or even worse. He could hit her, starve her, torture her... all in an attempt to make her pay for his hardships."

...The detective was right. If Thomas felt threatened, then he could very well take it out on C.C.. Months of starvation and beatings would make her a vulnerable target, unable to fight back, so she'd be very susceptible to having to bear the brunt of his frustrations.

It would be the dreaded phone call all over again. A punishment for trying to stop a monster, being delivered by that monster.

Niles didn't want that. He wanted to spare C.C.'s pain as much as he was able to. And she shouldn't have to suffer for his own carelessness. The part of him still feeling guilty told him she was doing that already. But all he could really do was make sure it didn't get any worse.

Sighing heavily, he nodded at the detective, "You're right. About everything. I'm sorry."

He didn't want to look up at her. He couldn't bear to see if she was still looking angrily at him. The only thing he was thankful for was the fact that she hadn't seen him looking around Thomas' house...

Instead of the reprimand he was expecting, he heard Lane let out a soft breath.

"I know you want to find her. I know you want her back with you, safe. And I promise we're doing everything we can to make sure that will happen," tentatively, she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, which made him look up. "It might take a while, but it will happen."

Nile sighed too. He wanted to believe that they'd find her, but it was just too hard...

He missed her more with every passing day, and it was hard to stay hopeful. There were no clues, no leads, no nothing... and he was only human. Despair was almost the only emotion he felt on a daily basis – despair and self-loathing. He still felt this was his fault. If he hadn't made that lousy prank she would have never been taken! She would have never had to bear the horrible abuse she was surely being subjected to.

On his darkest days, his mind conjured the worst scenarios, and his guilt only worsened. He wanted to make it up to her, but at the same time he felt like nothing would be enough.

It would never be enough...

But for now, he could try and control his impulses. If not following Thomas around meant that C.C. was, in a sense, safer, then he wouldn't interfere anymore. Even if he felt like he should be doing something other than waiting.

"Alright," Niles muttered, sighing heavily as his shoulders slumped. "I will not meddle anymore."

Land squeezed his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic half-smile. "Thank you. I promise we'll keep you updated, and I won't rest until she is safe back home."

Niles knew she meant it. Lane was a truthful woman who kept her word...

He only wished that she could fulfil her promises a little faster.

* * *

 **AN: Hey there! Thanks for the reviews :) Just to let you know, this fic was based on a real story - Natascha Kampusch's story. Thomas' behaviour is based on Natascha's kidnapper behaviour, and if you have the chance I'd recommend you to read her book, "3096 Days".**

 **The next chapter is going to be, by far, the darkest. Just wanted to warn you. We'll say it again when we upload it, though. Luckily, after that chapter things will start looking up!**

 **Thanks for your reviews, they make us so happy and keep us encouraged!**

 **Looking forward to hearing your comments.**

 **H &L**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: We decided to put a warning here. This chapter will only mention (but not describe/write in detail) abuse. If you are sensitive to this topic, please feel free to skip to the next chapter. As we said in the last chapter, things will better considerably as from the next chapter, and this is the darkest chapter of the fic.**

 **That being said, we leave you to the story.**

 **We hope you enjoy it and we'd be glad to get your reviews!**

 **HL**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 8_**

 ** _Breaking Point_**

"A dream is a soft place to land..." C.C. sang softly, strumming her guitar – it was almost unbelievable that she had mastered the instrument in barely three months...

Well... maybe it wasn't.

In these past months music had become her escape, and whenever she wasn't cleaning or cooking, she devoted her time to playing her guitar and creating songs. Life in captivity had become a little more... bearable since then. Or maybe she had just gotten used to it...

She had gotten used to Thomas' changing moods, to the beatings, to sharing his bed those three days a week... and she had eventually formed a routine. Granted, it was horrid and more than a little disturbing, but it helped her go on.

Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to bear being a prisoner for almost six months now.

 _"You're surviving."_

She'd even stopped groaning at the voice coming back. It was another comfort, as well as the music. And it was proving to be right a great deal of the time.

She ceased her strumming for a moment, "I am. It's all I can do."

 _"The music is making you feel better,"_ the voice was closer to her again. _"And so am I."_

She rolled her eyes, "You're a stand-in for a servant who just happens to be elsewhere right now."

She could almost see Niles grinning away in front of her, _"A servant we both know you're missing very much. We know that because you just tried to initiate a little bit of banter, like old times. And of course, there's the whole part about you hoping he'd like these songs that you're composing. Why don't you write them down? It'll give you something else to do, and you can show the real me how much work went into it. Someday."_

C.C. made a noise which sounded like "hm", and she looked down at her guitar. It might not be a bad idea to write a little. Not necessarily the songs, but something.

 _"Maybe you could write letters,"_ the voice suggested.

"Letters?" C.C. mused aloud, arching an eyebrow. "To whom?"

 _"To the real me,"_ offered the voice _. "You could write down positive thoughts and tell them to me. Kind of like the little talks we have, only that you'd be putting them on paper."_

It truly wasn't a bad idea. Actually, it was more like it was a wonderful idea. Amid sorrow and fear, keeping a record of positive thoughts could prove useful. It would force her to take her mind away from her captivity, and that was always good.

"I don't usually say this, Hazel, but you did came up with a good idea for a change," the producer grinned as she carefully put her guitar to the side and got to her feet.

Thomas had given her a few notebooks, which she usually used to write down her chores or draw, so why not use it for her letters?

 _"I always have good ideas,"_ the voice replied, sounding smug. _"Now come on, get down to work!"_

C.C. rolled her eyes and grabbed both a pen and one of her notebooks. But when she found herself being presented with a white, empty page, her mind went blank.

What on Earth could she write about? Due to everything that had happened, she wasn't exactly good at finding positive thoughts...

 _"You could start with-"_

 ** _Clunk_**

The noise of the heavy trap door being opened interrupted her thoughts, and C.C. slammed the notebook shut and got to her feet.

Thomas had arrived with her lunch.

C.C.'s eyes widened.

And what a lunch!

It was the most copious meal she had seen in all her captivity! There was bread, a bottle of wine, mushroom risotto, smoked vegetables, chocolate cake...

God... what did he have in mind now?!

"Sit down, Claire, don't worry," her captor said in an unusually soft and sweet voice. That's when she noticed he was carrying a small bag in his other hand.

"Yes, sir."

The producer sat down and rested her hands on her lap while Thomas carefully laid the feast on her table. Once he was done, however, he didn't hand her the cutlery. Instead, he gave her the small bag.

"Sir...?"

"Open it," he commanded.

And she did.

C.C. had to make an effort not to sob when she saw the contents of the little bag.

"You are to wear that lingerie tonight," he spoke quickly. "I bought it for our wedding night."

She was glad she hadn't eaten anything already, because if she had, she would have thrown up then and there.

No wedding. Just a wedding night. That could only mean one thing.

He wasn't her husband. He would never be her husband. But he'd gotten it into his head that this was going to happen, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She had no way of fighting back, being so weak.

He probably wanted her to say something like "Yes sir", but she couldn't speak. And any accidental positive word could be mistaken for her consent. She didn't want that, she wasn't giving her consent.

Thomas grinned. He was probably ecstatic, but the look reminded her of a hideous crocodile, preparing to devour the captured and half-drowned prey.

"You're so excited, you're speechless!" he said, before turning for the door. "Excellent. I'll reward you for your happiness at becoming my wife by letting you eat by yourself today. I'll return for you later, and I expect you to be wearing my gift."

He made his way back up the trap door, slamming it shut behind him.

C.C. remained still for what felt like an eternity, her eyes unfocused as tears began to roll down her cheeks. The food that had once looked delicious now repulsed her, and she wanted to tear apart the silk, white garments that had been given to her.

She had gotten used to him being there when she took a bath or forcing kisses on her lips or on upper back whenever they slept in the same bed. But this...

 _This_ was her worst nightmare.

And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"No..." the word came out of her lips like a whisper, and she fell to her knees. Her sobs became louder and louder, until the only thing she could do was hug her body as the tears fell like a waterfall.

She didn't want this! She didn't want to put those things on, she didn't to be there anymore, she didn't want to live anymore…

 _"Don't even think about it!"_ Niles' imaginary voice screamed. _"You can't give up. Not now... please, not now."_

But she couldn't respond. Fear was paralysing her body, and for the first time since she had been kidnapped, C.C. felt completely and totally defeated.

 _"That's what he wants,"_ the voice insisted. _"Don't let him win."_

"He's already won, hasn't he?" she shook as she cried, terrified and desolate all at once. "He took me from my home and my family and my friends, I have no way of getting back to them, and now...now..."

She flicked at the hideous garment she was going to be forced to wear for, and probably parade around in front of, an absolute monster, before burying her head in her arms and continuing to cry.

 _"And now, you're going to need to be stronger than ever before,"_ the voice felt like Niles was crouched by her head, murmuring into her ear. Now more than ever, she wished he was. _"He hasn't won. He's not in your head. If he were, I wouldn't be here. You wouldn't think about the real me anymore, or any of the things you want to do to keep yourself going."_

"Do I want to keep myself going anymore?" she whimpered weakly, resting the side of her head on one of her arms. "How much point can there be to living when everything you want's been taken away?"

The voice actually gave an audible sigh.

 _"What's been taken away can always be brought back,"_ it reminded her. _"You'll see your family, the Sheffields, the real me, again. But you must be strong enough to just keep on surviving. He can try his absolute hardest to get a reaction from you, to turn you into something you know you're not. But if you keep on surviving, and being you, even if that has to only be between you and me, he will never win."_

The voice was right... wasn't it? Thomas could overpower her physically, but her victory was staying true to herself – her victory was not letting him break her spirit. He wouldn't change her or what she was; she wouldn't allow it.

Her body had endured so much cruelty already...

Now it was all a matter of taking a deep breath and gearing up for what was to come. She would never give him her consent nor she would call him husband – she wouldn't allow him to corrupt who she was.

Because she was C.C. Babcock, and she belonged only to herself.

Well... her heart belonged to a certain butler, but that was another story.

Her sobs slowly quieted down until they stopped. She was breathing heavy, but her head was clearer than before.

 _"Now you need to eat,"_ the voice said. It still felt like Niles was right by her side.

C.C. screwed her face. Her stomach was tied in a knot, and the idea of food made her sick.

 _"Just take a few bites and then store the rest for the future,"_ Imaginary Niles insisted. " _You need it, C.C.."_

The producer sighed. He was right... again.

She got to her feet and forlornly made her way to the table. She chose to take a few bites of the mushroom risotto (it wasn't like she could store it for later) and gulped down a few glasses of wine – just a few, she didn't want to be drunk.

After hiding the rest of her food around her small cellar, the producer took the bag in her shaky hands. Underneath the lingerie there was also a satin robe, so the producer quickly changed into them and put on the robe. She then returned to her bed and took the guitar back in her hands.

Her music was oddly uplifting considering what was going to happen.

Maybe she needed it to relieve her soul from the pain.

She closed her eyes and pictured Niles siting before her as music enveloped the room.

"... You matter to me, simple and plain and much to ask from somebody," she sang, hoping that somehow Niles could hear her. "Cause you matter to me, I promise you do, you matter too. I promise you do... you'll see. You matter to me."

 _"You matter to him too,"_ the voice whispered. _"I promise you do."_

"I know..." she thought back, a few tears running down her cheeks. "I truly know..."

C.C. plunged into an ocean of music for the following hours. It soothed her so much that when Thomas did come, she barely shook.

And as he carried her upstairs and consequently ordered her to lie down on his bed, C.C.'s thoughts were floating around Niles and just how much she missed him.

* * *

"See you tomorrow, Mrs Jones," Thomas crooned as he closed the trap door of her cellar, leaving C.C. alone. The wedding night had finally come to an end.

She collapsed on her mattress, curling up and facing the wall, not wanting to sleep. Not wanting to be awake. Not wanting to be alive. She had to think about something – anything else. She had to keep herself from screaming and crying until the cellar collapsed in around her ears.

It was over, for now. Until the next time he wanted her. And the next one...

 _"But you're alive,"_ the voice said firmly. _"You're alive, and you won't let him win any of the other times, either."_

"This doesn't feel like me not letting him win," she muttered her reply, for once not caring if she could be heard talking to herself or not. "Being all passive..."

 _"It's better than fighting back and being killed. You know he's not winning. Now, or at any other time. And distracting yourself sounds like a good idea to me. What about writing one of those letters to the real me, hm?"_

The voice's tone felt like he should have been stroking her hair.

She wished he was. She wished she was in a real bed, in pyjamas, and Niles was with her, stroking her hair and holding her and making her laugh...

 _"And you will be,"_ the voice reassured her. " _You will be with the real me and he will never let you go again."_

C.C. nodded against the mattress. She knew he wouldn't let anything harm her ever again, and she would never leave his side, either. She would burrow in Niles' embrace and fall asleep while listening to his steady heartbeat. She would go to bed feeling loved.

Loved by the man she now knew she loved more than anyone.

Probably that was the thought that gave her the strength to get back on her feet and retrieve a shirt and sweatpants from her drawer. Thomas had allowed her robe back on when he had taken back to the cellar, and seeing as it was chilly, he had also given her a warm blanket, which he had left on her table.

Once she was dressed, she unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around herself before taking a seat at the table. The notebook was still there, and unlike what had happened a few hours ago, she knew exactly what she wanted to write.

The producer tapped the pen against the paper a few times and then neatly wrote the butler's name – Niles. It was so nice to look at it...

 _"And it is also a very good way to start a letter,"_ the voice said and C.C.'s lips curled into the ghost of a smile.

She didn't feel like she could truly and really smile again, but his memory was like a small ray of sun streaming from behind the black clouds.

Throughout the... _event_ – yeah, she was going to call it that way – she hadn't been able to stop thinking about Niles' cheesecake. Thomas had starved her the past week, and seeing as she hadn't touched her lunch she'd found she was famished.

But she was craving for that particular food – Niles' cheesecake. Nothing else seemed tasty.

And so, she put pen to paper, and began to write him little notes.

She mentioned the event without mentioning the event.

And she told him about how she'd thought of his cheesecake.

She stared at the two little pieces of paper in front of her. She felt... _not good_ , obviously, but somewhat satisfied that she had been able to do something other than curl up into a ball and hope she faded away.

She had to keep being strong. It wouldn't change what had happened, but dying wasn't going to solve anything, either.

 _"You see?"_ the voice sounded happy. Not for what had happened before, but because she was finally admitting some things to herself. _"You're going to live, C.C.. You're going to get through this. And I know that the real me would be proud of you for not giving up."_

She stroked her fingers over the part where she'd written the butler's name. The voice was right, she wasn't giving up. Even if she had written on the paper that the evil son of a bitch upstairs had broken her, she wasn't going to let it show.

She was prepared to go on for as long as she needed to, no matter how much she wanted to stop...

He wouldn't win. She would.

In the end, she'd win the war.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Chapter 9_**

 ** _Freedom_**

She could feel it – Thomas' even breathing against the back of her neck. It sent shivers down her spine, and the proximity of his body was enough to make her hair stand on end. He had fallen asleep, that much she could tell, and he had been true to his promise of not chaining her to the bed that night. Would this be his behaviour from then onwards? Or was it a one night thing? With Thomas there was no way to know for sure...

She supposed that his "vote of confidence" in her was a consequence of her own unwillingness to fight him anymore, but she was fairly sure that it also had to do with the ferocious blizzard raging outside. The storm was so terrible that no sensible human being would even think about venturing into the street. But then again, she wasn't a sensible human being.

 _Not anymore…_

What she had endured was monstrous, terrible, inhuman… and it had changed her. Her life had been destroyed, violated and bruised by the man who currently lay next to her and who would always look like a monster to her. When she was a child, C.C. had always feared the dark – back then, her naïve, young mind had envisaged that bloodthirsty creatures hid in it; creatures with long fangs and sharp claws that were waiting to pounce on her…

She scoffed – the worst monsters, she now knew, were human.

The producer carefully edged away from Thomas, not being able to stand his infernal breathing against her nape for one more second. Now that the violence was over and she had been left alone with her thoughts, the feeling of emptiness was seeping into her soul. There was a lot more to survival than just the persistence of the flesh, and although her body was relatively unscathed, she felt a hollowness inside of her chest that made breathing a herculean task.

Ever since the first time he had touched her, C.C. felt like she was a distortion of herself – a shadow of the woman she once had been. The beatings, the starvation, the loneliness… all that she had been able to bear. But this… _this_ was another story entirely.

Whenever she had found herself being pinned down to the mattress while the monster moved on top of her, she'd felt like she was dying over and over again. He was killing her without murdering her, the torture extending for longer, and becoming even more painful… just how he liked it. He was chipping away at her very soul, and she had finally reached her breaking point.

C.C. had always prided herself in being a strong, almost unbeatable woman, but she had finally been defeated. She couldn't fight it anymore… she couldn't stay there anymore.

She'd rather die than face another day inside that miserable hole.

She glanced at the window when a particularly strong gale lashed against it, and an idea suddenly crept into her tired mind. Tentatively, she sat up on the bed. She glanced at her sleeping captor – good… she hadn't awoken him. The bed was tall, so she allowed her feet to dangle in the air before slipping them inside her shoes, which she had neatly lined up beneath the bed. If he did get up right then, she'd only say she was going to the en-suite bathroom. With the room's door locked, she doubted that he'd ask many questions.

C.C. knew this was her only shot, and honestly, she'd rather die than spend another day in her very own version of Hell. She couldn't stand the beatings, the starvation, the… she shuddered. It was hard to even think about it.

Knowing that she was running against time, the blonde grabbed the fluffiest robe she could find, put on her shoes and moved to the window. The room was extremely big, so she trusted that the gushes of wind would reach him when she had already climbed out of the window. There was an awning beneath it; her plan was to jump onto it and then to the front lawn. There was a considerable amount of snow covering the lawn, so that would surely soften her fall.

Taking a shuddering breath so as to try and calm her racing heart, the producer opened the window…

 _And jumped._

She was soon rolling down the awning and falling to the front lawn. Although the snow had softened the blow, it had been a hard fall nevertheless, and when C.C. stood up she realised her wrist was sprained.

No matter… she needed to get to a hospital anyway.

She stood up and quickly checked herself for any other injuries, but she appeared to be (physically) fine. That was until the bitter cold hit her square in the chest, wicking the heat away from her frail body. The freezing gales were blowing right through her robe and pyjama top with absurd ease, and the snow had drenched both her shoes and pyjama pants.

C.C. glanced around at her surroundings; she had never been to Thomas' front lawn before. It was small and encircled by a rickety, old fence that C.C. felt could collapse if one so much as looked at it the wrong way. Although buried by a mantle of white, crisp snow, C.C. could see patches of the lawn, and it was just as unkempt as the fence or the few, naked shrubs.

Overall, however, his house looked so painfully normal that C.C. felt a shiver running down her spine – one that hadn't been caused by the numbing cold that surrounded her. No one would ever suspect that she had been held inside a cellar just a few feet underground…

Just like Thomas had said, no one would have ever heard her anguishing screams.

But it was over… well, almost over. Turning around towards the open gates, C.C. took a deep, shuddering breath and she ran past them and into the street.

Part of her felt like she had ventured into the dark mouth of some terrifying creature, for the night was pitch black, but she knew it was safer than the house she had inhabited for months. The stars and the moon were hidden behind an impenetrable wall of black clouds, a proof of the darkness' stranglehold of the night. But she wasn't afraid… actually, as she blended into the shadows, she began to feel safe.

The blocks passed by her in a blur. C.C. could only focus on wrapping her arms around her upper body as she searched for a familiar street or sign that gave her a clue of where she was. From what she could see she was roaming a typical urban area of New York, but it was ghostly, deserted, eerily silent…

Her fierce steps echoed into the night, and C.C. wondered if that noise alone would be enough to guide Thomas to her. It was a terrifying thought, but it encouraged C.C. to keep running, no matter how tired, afraid or in pain she was. She needed to get away at any cost; she'd rather die than go back to that cellar. The wind could hiss, growl or roar all it wanted, but she didn't care – she only cared about keeping moving, her eyes glued to the road ahead of her.

In a sense, the brutality of the storm was soothing, for it meant that Thomas would have more trouble finding her if he was already after her. His eyes would only be able to see a few meters ahead, and she had already covered a more than considerable distance. She wasn't to stop under any circumstance, though.

Her salvation, she knew, was running for dear life.

After what had felt like an eternity and an innumerable amount of twists and turns around different corners, C.C. let out an excited yelp – she finally knew where she was. The small, green sign that read "14th St." rose high in the night sky, held in place by a black metal pole. It almost felt like it was glowing – like it was some kind of saving light for her to see. Right by its side there was another sign that read "9thAv.".

"Good Lord," C.C. muttered, brushing her fingers against the black metal pole.

Part of her felt like weeping; like letting herself fall down to the ground, defeated and broken. Lennox Hill – the hospital she was aiming to get to – was more than sixty blocks away! It was on 63rd Street and 3rd Avenue, at the other side of Central Park! The walk would take her over an hour! Probably more due to the storm…

But she didn't care – well, she forced herself to not care, even if deep inside her she felt like she was too tired, and cold, and desperate to not care.

She had to keep moving. If she went back, Thomas would probably kill her for leaving in the first place. And she was too weak to fight him, but there was a chance that if she kept moving, she could fight this.

She had to. She had to get somewhere safe.

 _"Now, that's the fighting spirit from the she-devil I know_ ," said Niles' voice.

She groaned to herself, and thought in her head because she was too cold to talk, "I'm a little busy right now. Is there a chance we could do this later?"

 _"There won't be a later if you don't keep moving,"_ the voice replied. _"Come on, Babcock. One foot in front of the other. Just like Doctor Frankenstein taught you."_

"Shut up!" she thought louder, if it were possible, wrapping her arms around herself as much as she could and starting to push her way through the snow. "Happy now?"

 _"Happier. I'll be completely happy when you've made it to the hospital,"_ the voice said firmly. _"Now keep moving, and just pay attention to my voice. Think about how you'll get to hear the real me soon."_

The real Niles...

What would he say once he saw her? How would she explain to him what had happened? And what about her family or the Sheffields? Had they been looking for her? Had they worried about her being missing? Or had they forgotten about her?

And if they were looking for her, had they lost hope of her reappearing? Were they looking for a body?

 _"They will find a body if you don't move faster, Babcock_ ," Niles' voice interrupted her troubled musings. _"I know multitasking is too much of a strain for people your age, so focus your energies in getting to the hospital!"_

"You are insufferable," the producer replied in her head, forcing herself to fasten the pace.

 _"And you love me anyway,"_ his voice replied.

C.C. was sure that the real Niles would be giving her one of his smug smirks right then.

But the voice was right. She did love him.

 _"That's my Babcock! Now, come on, one foot in front of the other."_

And so she began her long way to salvation. There wasn't a soul in the streets, and it didn't surprise her either. The cold was terrible – freezing gushes of wind were cutting her skin, and she knew it wouldn't be long until hypothermia had begun to ravage her body (that was, if it hadn't started doing so already). She was trembling and her extremities were beginning to feel numb… like they were asleep.

Well… she herself was feeling slightly sleepy, and the lethargy only worsened with each step she gave.

 _"Keep going, Babcock, come on!"_ Niles' voice encouraged, and for the longest of times that was the only phrase it kept repeating.

As the blocks went past, C.C. could feel her body shutting down – her movements had become slow and laboured, she was nauseous, dizzy, her breathing was slow and shallow and her heart was galloping against her chest; but, paradoxically enough, she felt awfully hot.

Although her mind was sluggish and there was a big part of it that was screaming at her to get rid of the robe, she forced herself to keep it on – the temperature was freezing, it was impossible for her to be feeling hot! She supposed it was a consequence of hypothermia…

 _"_ _Keep going, Babcock, don't you chicken out now!"_ the voice encouraged, and C.C. could only grit her teeth and keep pushing through the snow.

She didn't really know for how long she walked practically on autopilot, but just when she was about to give up, her eyes caught a glimpse of a hospital door.

Lennox Hill's entrance door!

It was two blocks away, at most. She was so very close...

But she had no more strength... she couldn't do this!

 _"You can't give up now!"_ the voice was yelling over the top of the swirling wind, and her head was getting all fuzzy and she wanted to listen but there was nothing stopping her from sleeping either...

 _"You know he loves you too!"_ the voice finally cried out in desperation. _"Do you want to come so close to being with him at last, only to fall at the final hurdle? You can see the door from here, Babcock! That safety we talked about back the other side of the park? It's right there! Go to it, and don't stop thinking about him!"_

And she did. The voice was right. She couldn't stop when she was so close, and the thought of them finding her body in the snow, so near to freedom and safety and love and yet so far at the same time, made her want to cry. So she continued, shuffling her feet as much as she could through the snow, each and every step in her head punctuated by the voice, reminding her of all the good things about Niles, and all the fun times they'd had together.

 _"Remember the Broadway Guild Awards? How you both went back to the mansion, lit a fire, and you danced? You never had such a fun evening at an event like that."_

The hospital was a block away.

 _"Remember the wedding you went as his date for? The pre-reception drinks at the bar. And you could hear people talking, about what an agreeable pair you made. But neither of you really paid attention to it; even if you didn't say so out loud, you agreed."_

The hospital was half a block and closing.

 _"Remember the kiss in the den,"_ the voice said, more soft and quiet than it was before. _"How warm and safe you felt in his arms. And how loved and desired you were."_

The hospital doors were almost upon her.

 _"You can have that all back again."_

The voice faded away as the hospital doors opened and she fell through them.

* * *

Niles was shaking. Unable to move, breathe or even think clearly.

They had found her. Or better said, she had appeared at the hospital in the middle of a blizzard!

Good Lord...

When the notion that C.C. was alive finally dawned on him, Niles sprang into action – she was alive! Alive... but clearly injured. He needed to get to Lennox Hill now! The sooner he arrived, the sooner he'd know what had happened to Babcock.

The doctor hadn't wanted to speak on the phone, which gave him the clue that she was clearly in a bad shape. Niles took in a shuddering breath and scrambled for his discarded suit – he hadn't even folded it when he took it off before going to bed... he rarely did that since C.C. had disappeared.

He knew he had no time to think about what could have possibly happened to her just then – there would be time for that once he was in the hospital, but now he only needed to get to the hospital. So, after changing back into his suit and grabbing his wallet, Niles practically dashed to the family car, not caring to put Mr Sheffield abreast of C.C. having reappeared.

The distance between the mansion and the hospital was a short one, but seeing as the storm was so bad, Niles had figured it would be insane to walk there. He shuddered when the notion that C.C. had actually done so surfaced inside his mind.

Soon enough, he had parked the car and was running inside the hospital. There was a tired-looking doctor at the front desk, and after crossing a look both of them knew who the other was.

"Are you Niles Brightmore?" the doctor asked.

"Yes, yes I am," he replied, showing her his ID.

"Good. Follow me. We need to check if this woman is who she claims to be," the doctor explained, guiding him to the ICU. "She says her name is C.C. Babcock, but she has no identification whatsoever. She arrived hypothermic, malnourished and severely bruised," Dr Langston came to a halt before a door and turned to face a pale Niles. "We also believe she was sexually assaulted, so try not to touch her just yet – we still have to run some tests, alright?"

Niles felt like being sick. He understood the words that were being said to him, but he refused to believe that that bastard had done all that to her. God… it couldn't really be true!

"Alright," he barely whispered.

And so, the doctor opened the door, and finally his eyes found her shivering form.

"That's her," he said it automatically. No hesitation in his tone whatsoever, despite the fact that the woman curled up on the bed in front of him was almost skeletal. But he'd know that blonde hair, even if it was dirty and unkempt, and that face – the strong jaw, long nose, and high cheekbones, even if the latter were sunken in.

She was there. She was alive. Even though she was clearly affected by what had happened, she was there with him still. His prayers had been answered, and he thanked whomever was listening because they'd given her back to him.

"Are you sure?" the doctor glanced at the man just by her shoulder, lightly tapping a pen against a chart she held in her hands.

Niles nodded enthusiastically, "Absolutely. I'd know her anywhere."

She was awake, but only just. And as the door creaked open, she shrank away from the source of the noise. Probably in terms of her own head she was doing so quickly, but she was so exhausted and ill from the weather and from her mistreatment, that she moved weakly.

"Well, we'd better go over, then," the doctor said quietly. "She is very worn out from her ordeal, but seeing a familiar face might be good for her right now."

They approached her bed slowly, so as not to cause her to panic. Niles remained slightly behind the doctor, not knowing how she'd react to the sight of him.

He could only hope her reaction would be a good one. He wasn't expecting much because if she'd suffered abuse at the hands of whomever had been keeping her, then he doubted she'd be ready for too much attention of any kind. But just hearing her sound...maybe relieved at seeing him, or at least anything other than disgusted or angry, would be nice.

"Miss Babcock?" Dr Langston said softly, not daring to touch the woman. "Miss Babcock, are you awake?"

The woman whimpered, trying to move but everything inside her hurting when she did so. Her mind was still so confused... she had no idea where she was, but at least she felt she was safe.

At least that's what she wanted to believe.

The drugs that they had administered had already taken their toll on her, and although she was feeling warmer and warmer by the second, she was also lost in a foggy and confusing haze. Her eyes were so very tired, therefore they could only distinguish two blurry shadows standing before her – one belonging to a woman and the other to a man.

"Miss Babcock?" Dr Langston tried again, getting closer to the woman. "Do you hear me? Nod if you do."

It took her some moments, but she eventually nodded, and her doctor smiled down at her.

"Very good, Miss Babcock," Dr Langston said, gently moving closer to her patient and pressing the button at the side of her bed so the head of the bed would rise a bit. Clearly the woman was in no shape to be sitting up right then. "Someone came to see you. Would you like to see him?"

And for some reason, the mention of someone having come to see her – more specifically, a man having come to see her – sent C.C. into panic. The only thing she could think about was that he had found her – Thomas had found her.

"NO... please... don't let him take me!" she wailed, trying to scramble to a sitting position.

Her desperation was so terrible it was preventing her from realising who had really come to see her.

"Miss Babcock, relax!" Dr Langston shushed her, but the woman had already curled up in a ball and was rocking back and forth. "Miss Babcock, Ni-"

"Don't let him take me... Don't let Thomas take me back... I don't wanna go back to the cellar... please!" she whimpered, using her hands to cover her face leaving all the bruises and cuts in plain sight.

Niles' eyes widened at the sight, a sharp pain stabbing him straight through the chest and stomach. She'd been held, abused, tortured...it had been going on for so long now, it had done all of this to her and it was making him feel sick. Her mentioning going back to "the cellar" made him feel even sicker. His fists were clenching before he knew it, and as he got angry thinking about this captor, a name registered.

She'd said "Thomas". It was him. It had been him, all along. He'd hidden her from the police somehow, and no doubt she'd paid the price for such a close call. He didn't want to think about how, though.

All he wanted to do was get her to realise that the kidnapper hadn't come for her. He was never coming to get her again.

"You're not going back to any cellar," Dr Langston's voice was calm, despite the disturbing pleas coming from her patient. "I promise you're not."

"I don't believe you!" C.C. cried out, burying herself deeper in her own arms so that her face could no longer be seen. "He's found me and he's going to take me back and he'll put me in the cellar again, and I don't wanna go back!"

Her screaming was becoming anguishing for the butler. He'd never seen her in such distress. He'd never seen such trauma in another human being in general! She was hurting inside and out, and he longed to reach out and protect her, but knew that his touch would only make things worse. She wouldn't know it wasn't her kidnapper, coming to take her away again. She could fight him, and they could both get hurt.

Well, he knew one way of reaching out that he knew would separate him from the vile scum that had taken her.

"Miss Babcock, it's Niles!" he shouted.

Oh, God, please, let her recognise his voice...!

Silence.

Silence for a very long time.

Niles could feel his heart leaping into his mouth as the woman slowly lifted her head from her arms so she could look at him. Part of him couldn't help but want to weep when he realised just how fearfully she moved – it was as though she was afraid of what she'd find.

She didn't look directly into his eyes at first. Instead, she stared at his feet.

"N-Niles?" she stuttered, wringing her hands in apprehension. He noticed she was frowning, too. "Are you... are you really here?"

The question took the butler by surprise. What did she mean by that? Was she surprised that he had come to see her? Or did she mean that she couldn't believe that he was really there, in that room – that he was a real person? He moved a bit closer, but not too much so she wouldn't feel invaded.

"Yes... yes it's me, Miss Babcock, I am here," he said softly, and for the first time in eight months their eyes connected.

He had to suppress a sob when he got a glimpse of her baby blues. The spark of life he remembered was no longer there – it had been crushed, broken, stolen...

Instead he could only see pain and fear. A fear so deeply rooted to her very soul that Niles couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever be able to not feel afraid. Those were the eyes of a woman who had been through Hell, and he'd be damned if he allowed the son of a bitch who had done this get away.

They held their gaze for an endless instant. Neither could take their eyes off the other, and for completely different reasons. C.C. finally felt safe, and Niles couldn't believe what that lowlife had done to his beautiful Babcock. He had broken her from the inside out, and if it were up to him, he'd return the favour by beating him within an inch of his life – the only reason he'd leave him alive was so that he could be trialled.

C.C.'s eyes welled up with tears and she edged a bit closer to Niles. Not too much, but definitely a bit closer than she had been before.

"It's you..." she whispered, "It's really you..."

She reached out and used her good hand to carefully trace the outline of his features, as though trying to convince herself that he was real. That this was not just a dream. Niles longed to cover her hand with his own – to grasp it and never let it go. But he knew better, so he only held her gaze and kept smiling at her.

"It's me, Miss Babcock, it's me..." he reassured.

But as soon as he spoke, the woman pulled away. She couldn't help it... it had become a habit.

Niles tried to not show just how much that hurt – not because she had pulled away per se, but because of the reason behind her doing so in the first place. She had been hurt, and he had no idea how to make it better.

The producer, meanwhile, was suddenly being overcome by a wave of emotions – joy for seeing Niles again; fear of Thomas coming back; sorrow due to what had happened...

It was too much, that was certain, so she did the only things that felt natural: she curled up in a ball against the pillows.

Dr Langston pursed her lips, realising that her patient needed some space. "Why don't we go and call the police, Mr Brightmore? I am sure we have to stop whoever did this before they get away."

Niles heaved a pained sigh and nodded.

"I quite agree, Dr Langston," the butler said and after glancing one last time at C.C. (who was being carefully tucked in by a nurse) he walked out of her room and into the waiting area outside.

* * *

 **AN: Well, there you have it :) She is back! But don't worry, we still have quite a way to go.**

 **We appreciate your reviews and thank you for reading our story!**

 **H &L**


	11. Chapter 11

**_Chapter 10_**

 ** _Opening Up_**

What followed to Niles' initial reunion with C.C., were countless phone calls – he called Detective Lane, the Sheffields, C.C.'s family... everyone he could think off. Niles knew that both the Sheffields and the Babcocks would be there soon, but he wasn't surprised when Lane was the first one to appear.

Her grey hair was dishevelled and it was obvious that she had just woken up and that she had left her house in a haste, but she looked just as resolute as usual. Ready to dive into the case that had been gnawing at her for the better part of a year.

The middle aged woman had been in the force for over thirty years now, and she had never had a case like this one. A case where, even though she practically knew who the culprit was, her hands had been tied and she had been forced to helplessly look as the vile piece of shit walked free. Her husband and her three children had noticed that her interest in this case bordered with obsession, but they had known better than to suggest she took a break.

Now C.C. had been found… and not thanks to her.

The brave producer had escaped in the middle of one of the worst blizzards she had ever seen and had arrived to safety by herself. All on her own. The least she could do now was apprehend the bastard who had hurt her.

"Hello, La-"

"Niles, come with me, now!" she ordered, and both detective and butler walked to C.C.'s room. "I've sent some officers to Thomas' house and they'll arrest him; now I need to hear C.C.'s version of the story."

"Alright, but why do you need me here? I should be waiting for the She-"

"Niles, I want you to talk to her," Lane interrupted. "After you called, I phoned Dr Langston and asked her to get Miss Babcock to talk to a psychiatrist, but she refuses to speak to anyone. According to Langston she both asked for and talked to you, so it is safe to assume she'll tell you what happened if you ask her."

Niles felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He wanted to help her, by all means, but he knew that remembering her ordeal would be something akin to torture!

"Lane... I... I can't force her," he replied in a broken voice. "You didn't see her when she got here. She was terrified – it was pure panic!"

"Then, for the sake of catching the monster who did this to her, you must," Lane snapped as she thrusted a recorder into his hands. "You have to record everything and give it to me, alright?"

Well... it looked like he didn't have much of a choice.

He looked over at C.C., curled up in her bed. She was still awake. Niles wondered if she ever slept properly anymore, or if she stayed awake out of fear. A body permanently on high alert. If they could get Thomas, find him and put him away forever, then maybe she'd be able to sleep again. That's all he wanted for her; love, safety, and a good night's sleep.

And they needed her testimony to be able to do that.

He let out a resigned breath, and nodded, "Alright, I'll do it. If it puts the scum that did this behind bars, then I'll do it."

"We'll do our very best to make sure that's what happens," Lane pointed at the recorder. "Just make sure that we catch every word. Nothing can be left out."

"I understand," he said, sounding almost completely monotone. He knew he had to do this, and he was gearing himself up for it, but hurting C.C. to make sure she would never be hurt again was playing on his conscience, even if he knew the outcome would be better than the means used to achieve it.

"Good," Lane gestured towards the bed. Well, specifically the chair next to it. "I'll let the pair of you have some privacy. I'll shut the door behind me. Come find me in the waiting room when you're done."

The butler nodded once more, and the detective turned, closing the door behind her softly, so as not to disturb C.C..

He slowly sat down on the chair, his eyes never leaving C.C.'s frail form. She knew why he was there and she seemed to be weighing if she should tell him or not. It must have been terrible... having so many things – terrible things– bottled up inside and not saying them.

The woman wrapped her covers around her, as though trying to hide in a warm cocoon of bedclothes. Her frame was so terribly frail that she reminded Niles of a child – her bones jutted out, and he really didn't want to know how much she weighted.

Her hair was now tied in a ponytail, and as she had been warmed and given a proper meal for a change, she had regained some colour.

But she couldn't blame her for attempting to use the covers as safeguard. Like most children, the producer felt a strange sense of comfort and safeness when buried underneath warm, fluffy sheets. And she needed them... she was going to relive her version of Hell, and that was probably overwhelming her.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly. He didn't need specifying – she already knew.

She didn't reply at once. She was probably asking herself the very same question...

"We can take some more mi-"

"No," C.C. cut him off. "I... I think I am ready."

"Alright," Niles switched on then recorder and laid it on the bedside table between he and C.C..

The producer took a deep, shuddering breath and began her tale.

"I... I suppose that I'll start on the beginning – the day I was kidnapped," C.C. said, trying so very hard to keep her voice from trembling but failing. Niles heart couldn't help but ache. "I was stupid. I was angry and sad and I had no way of getting home and he offered me a ride because he had dropped his coffee all over my blouse," C.C. sighed, still not understanding how she had been so stupid. "I didn't realise he was taking me somewhere else, but when I did, it was too late. I asked him to stop, and he tricked me by acquiescing to my wishes so I'd put my guard down. The next thing I knew was that a cloth drenched with Chloroform was being pressed against my nose."

C.C. made a pause; the heart rate monitor had registered the rise in her heart rate, and Niles could only let her calm down. Internally, of course, guilt was gnawing at him – that had been his fault! If he hadn't pranked her... if he had been a decent human being this would have never happened.

But that was just another reason to stay strong and try to help her. He'd deal with his self-loathing later, when she didn't need him.

"... and then," she continued, her voice hoarse. "I woke up in... in my cellar. He had built this room underneath the earth with no windows or doors. I had a mattress where I could sleep, some books, music, my own toilet and sink and a table. That was about it. He starved me during the first three weeks when I refused to obey him. He left me locked up there and I began to lose my grasp on reality – I didn't know what day it was, nor the time nor if it was night or day. So my mind drifted away and I... I began to daydream. The daydreams were so powerful that they kept me sane; I was truly somewhere else. Probably they were incredibly vivid both as a result of my captivity and due to not having eaten for three weeks, but still... my soul, as cliché as it sounds, was free. I felt like I was slipping away. I felt like I was snow being melted away by the summer sun. I was fading, and I wasn't afraid; I think I wanted to slip away."

C.C. chuckled; but it was a humourless laugh, a hollow laugh...

"That was the first stage. I kind of ended up accepting I'd have to yield to Thomas' demands or I wouldn't survive. That's why I agreed to obey him. That's when the second stage began, and so did the beatings."

Niles shuddered, and he had to take deep calming breaths to not break down sobbing before her. He'd have never suspected the extent horrors that she had gone through, and he didn't know if he'd be strong enough to bear to listen to them. Granted, after the phone call he had known she was beaten, but hearing it from her mouth… it was a thousand times worse.

"He started letting me out from time to time, and I'd cook and clean for him. If I messed up, I'd be punished. At first he only slapped me, but then came the punches and kicks; needless to say I learnt quickly and became mostly submissive. He would also feed me occasionally, if he felt like it. He always took the food away if I did something wrong..."

The producer looked away from the butler, as though she were suddenly embarrassed by something – as though not having fought back was some kind of disappointment.

"By then I had begun to challenge him less and less... I knew he had the upper hand, and I ended up prioritising staying alive over keeping my pride. But he still got easily mad at me – he hated when I spoke without permission, when I moved, or basically whenever I did something without his explicit command. But I'd always have my moments of peace in my cellar; like when he was at work or when he went to bed..." she made a pause, her eyes glazing over and her countenance looking even more pained, if that were possible. "That was... until he decided I was to share a bed with him. He said... he said that I was finally trained and that we..." she swallowed a lump in her throat. "That we were going to sleep together in the same bed. And a few months later, he said that I… that we were going to have our… our wedding night. So he took me upstairs and he…" she trailed off, not being able to speak the words aloud. It hurt too much and she was sure he understood. "I...I don't really remember much of what happened that first time. That's the amazing thing about the human psyche – my mind kind of... drifted away when the worst began. It is difficult to explain, but I felt like I was floating up by the ceiling; it was like I was watching what was happening to me from afar."

Niles felt like being sick. Like screaming until the world stopped spinning and hurting all at once. Like taking that last inch off the life of Thomas.

He had expected something like this, because one's mind always imagines the worst when dealt with a terrifying situation. But hearing about it, feeling the anguish and the absolute horror coming through her words at what had happened, it sent his mind into overdrive, and he could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins.

It was funny, really; he'd never imagined that the phrase "to make one's blood boil" could really feel quite like the real thing. But there it was. The heat burning from the utter hatred and loathing he felt for the man who had done this to her, coursing through him.

It felt like he could run back through the blizzard to where C.C. had come from himself, and woe betide anyone who stood in his way.

He hoped the police officers bringing Thomas in kept him away. There was no telling what the butler would do if presented with even the slightest opportunity...

He almost wanted to stop the interview then and there, so that he could very tactfully pause the tape, leave the room, and find somewhere else in the hospital to either be sick or to take his frustrations out. Yelling. Screaming. Perhaps punching a wall. He didn't want her to see him like that, not after having been exposed to nothing but violence at the hands of a deranged lunatic for months.

But he'd have to do something like that later, in his own time. If he did that, they'd be wasting precious minutes. The sooner the interview was over, the better. He could hand the infernal machine back to Detective Lane, and that would be it.

He nodded for her to continue.

She chanced a glance at him and, paradoxically enough, she pitied him. The producer knew this was killing him – it was obvious by his clenched jaw and general body language – whilst she had somehow overcome the phase of shock.

The first few days after "the event" (she had taken to call it that way. It was easier than calling it by its proper name) had been awful – she had been in shock, felt dirty, broken, numb... the list of emotions was almost endless. But then, slowly, she had bottled it up and continued her life in captivity with morbid normality. She couldn't cry there, and she couldn't afford to let the bastard know that something inside her had broken, perhaps irreparably, due to what he had done.

She hadn't been able to avoid Thomas repeating his vile actions or touching her, but she had kept herself composed. Only now that she was safe she resented any type of physical contact. Even from Niles...

Well... maybe with him it was different. Truth to be told she wanted him to hold her and tell her everything would be fine – like his voice had done – but she had no idea how to ask for a hug anymore.

She had basically ignored the problem for the sake of staying alive and functioning, but it wouldn't be long until she experienced the fallout – the cathartic moment when the magnitude of what had happened to her hit her full force.

"There were a few more times after that," she forced herself to continue. "But I didn't oppose or complain – it would have been a true nightmare if I had. So even if I didn't want to, I just forced myself to let him do as he pleased with me; as long as he was content, I'd be safe."

C.C. leaned back against the pillows, her gaze now glued to the pattern of the pretty duvet that was covering her body. In a sense, the worst had passed – he knew about "the event" and the beatings, so the crudest part of her tale was over.

Now came her escape.

"And so, he began to trust me. He let me do more things and even cooked once or twice – I had to clean, of course, but he was in a good mood," C.C. sighed. "So last night, I was expecting him to chain me to his bed, as usual, but he didn't. He said it was a special night because he trusted me. And so, he merely locked the door and simply went to sleep. Once he had fallen asleep, I took the chance to jump out of the window and here I am..."

She unfurled her arms enough for him to actually see a bandage wrapped around her wrist. He couldn't help a twitch. Had that been something else done to her by Thomas?!

She caught him looking at the injury.

"I fell onto an awning, then onto the ground. I sprained my wrist in the fall," she explained, before continuing. "But the snow was deep enough to prevent me breaking anything else, even if I was winded and bruised. Then...I figured out where I was, and knew that if I could...just get across Central Park, I'd be here. I might be okay."

She didn't seem okay. She wasn't okay. They both knew it. But it was far better than what she'd been through. And from here on out, there was nothing to do but make sure that she was starting to feel okay again.

She wasn't finished with her story, either, "So that's what I did. I walked, through Central Park, in the blizzard, in a pair of pyjamas and a robe. And now I'm here."

Niles was astounded. He couldn't believe the amount of strength the woman clearly still had, even if a monster had tried to take it from her. She'd had the will to survive what was almost certainly a death sentence, all in the hopes of finding help.

And she had found help. He was sure that if he'd been in her position, he would have given up and frozen to death on the streets. But she was a fighter. So much more of a fighter than anyone gave her credit for. She'd been brave enough to survive torture, to willingly risk her own life to get away from it, and then to get through this interview with him. He vowed then and there to aid her in being brave enough to fight the rest of this nightmare.

He clicked the stop button on the recorder, "I...think I have everything the police will need to know, now."

"Alright..." she replied quietly, shifting on the bed. She hadn't realised it until then, but talking about what had happened felt like someone had taken away some of her titanic burden.

Well... maybe that's what had happened. She had allowed herself to finally talk and now the blue-eyed man sat before her shared her burden.

He had been the reason why she had gotten there, really. The thought of him, his voice, his memory... Niles had been her driving force. She wanted to tell him about hearing his voice, about it being the only thing that had kept her sane though a nightmare, but right then wasn't the time.

Both of them were very tired after such an emotional talk and C.C. realised (with no small amount of surprise) that she was longing for the only thing she had lacked during these past months – a hug.

Granted, she had experienced terrible forms of human contact and having intimacy was probably something that she wouldn't be able to have for a long time, but she wanted to be held...

She wanted someone who told her everything would be fine.

And the only touch she'd be able to abide, was Niles'.

The butler had risen from his chair and was heading towards the door. C.C. hesitated; should she bother him?

 _"_ _Babcock, you had him in your mind for eight months,"_ Niles' imaginary voice briefly surfaced. _"Just ask him, for Christ's sake!"_

Well... the answer was clear.

"Niles, wait..." she called out, and the butler gently closed the ajar door and looked at her.

"Do you need anything, Miss Babcock?" he asked, concern dripping from his every word. "Are you in pain?"

The latter was a stupid question, he thought. Of course she was in pain! How could she not be?

C.C. shook her head no, looking almost sheepish. "No... I just... could you... could you hold me? Just for a little while?"

Niles looked down at the tape in his hand. Detective Lane was expecting it the moment he had it ready. But she didn't know he had it ready yet. For all she knew, they were still talking everything over.

And C.C. had been missing from his life for eight months. He thought he'd never see her again, and even if he did, he doubted she'd be alive. But she was, and she'd been given back to him. Of course the only thing he wanted to do was hold her.

He could put off giving the tape in, just for now. Not having the tape wasn't going to affect the police arresting Thomas, after all. And it would only be until C.C. wanted him to stop.

His mouth almost became a smile, but stopped just short of it, "Of course I can."

He approached her bed carefully, settling the recorder back onto the table.

She shifted as much as she could, still wrapped in her sheets, and leaned over to allow him to gently put his arms around her.

To say that she didn't struggle with being in such close proximity to another person, would have been a lie, but as soon as she felt the familiar scent of cinnamon and his cologne creeping into her nostrils, she relaxed.

His hold made her feel safe.

For the very first time in what had felt like an eternity, she felt safe... she had lived on high-alert for nearly a year now; the only thing she'd cared for, was securing her survival. Nothing else had mattered – the trauma, the pain, the loneliness; she had been able to push them into a small imaginary box which she had locked and stored in the deepest and darkest corner of her mind.

She hadn't been able to afford to think about anything else apart from surviving, thus her emotional response towards the abuse had been suppressed. She supposed that the survival instincts that were now so attuned had known that she needed to keep emotions out of the equation.

But not anymore...

She was safe. In the arms of the only person she was able to let in.

C.C. could swear the Earth was shaking – there was a terrible earthquake disturbing her peace, but what she was failing to realise, was that the earthquake was inside of her. Her walls – the defences she had set up to survive her ordeal – were tumbling down, and for the first time C.C. was feeling.

It was all raw emotion and it made her feel like she had no oxygen. The realisation of what had truly and really happened was hitting her square in the chest, and it hurt like hell.

The dam had collapsed and it was time to face the flood.

And so, before she knew it, she began to cry as she clung onto Niles for dear life.

"Why... why did he do that to me?!" she wailed, tightening her grip on him. "Why did he hit me?! Why do I hurt so much?!"

Niles was struggling to keep himself in check. He could feel the stabbing pain in his chest and knew his heart was breaking, but he also knew that what she was feeling was a thousand times worse than he would ever feel.

So he kept it in, for her. She needed him to be strong right then, to be the comfort and support she hadn't had in so long, and he wasn't going to let her down. Not now, and not ever.

She came first. Everything he did from now on would put her first.

Because she had tightened her grip on him, he felt maybe it wouldn't be too inappropriate to hold her tighter back.

"I...there are monsters out there, Miss Babcock. And they hurt people, badly, with no sense of remorse or guilt. They are evil, and do bad things because they can," he turned his head towards hers, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and not caring that his head was leaned against hers. "But they have to be fought. They cannot be allowed to get away with what they do to people. He will not be allowed to get away with what he did to you. I'm going to be here every step of the way to make sure he doesn't, and so are the police, and the Sheffields, and your family. And what happened was not your fault. Was never your fault, and will never be your fault."

C.C. buried her face in the crook of his neck, and she allowed herself to cry as he held her. She hadn't cried since the first weeks of her captivity, and a good cry was long overdue.

She relished the feeling of his arms around her; it was like being inside a warm, safe bud. The world around them simply couldn't reach her, and this was probably the break she needed with desperation. She was not okay, and it was okay to not be okay. What she had endured had been barbaric, and Niles was clearly willing to provide all the support and care she'd need to get over what had happened.

Part of her felt unworthy of that love – she was damaged, used, broken... he deserved better, that was certain. But she didn't want to even think about that right then! C.C. simply needed him to hold her together – if he let go, she feared that she'd come apart and wouldn't be able to fix herself again.

Niles shushed her and gently cradled her in his arms as she cried. She felt so fragile in his embrace... so delicate. It was as though he was holding a precious antiquity – she could break if he made the wrong movement. He knew that the road to recovery had just began, and he also knew it would be long. Her captor had done inhumane things to her, and the wounds in her soul were so deep that the butler knew they had changed who she was.

He had to help her through this... he had to hold her together and help her back on her feet.

They stayed like that for what felt like a small eternity, but eventually the peace was broken by the door being opened by C.C.'s father, brother, mother and Maxwell and Fran. They all swarmed in as soon as they saw her, no one daring to say anything.

They had been told to approach her with care, too.

He slowly released one of his arms from around C.C., making sure to hold her tightly with the other one so that she didn't feel like he was going to let her go too soon, and beckoned them over.

There weren't enough seats for everyone present, but the butler doubted it mattered because they all appeared so agitated that sitting down was the last thing on their minds. They gathered at a small distance – close enough to see the producer, but far enough away to make sure she didn't feel crowded or trapped.

As the others had entered, C.C.'s cries had quietened into sobs, and Niles rubbed her upper arm.

"See?" he murmured. "We're all here for you. We're going to help you through this."

The others all murmured their agreement and assent. They were perfectly happy for Niles to take the lead in talking, especially seeing as they didn't quite know how to start.

C.C. gulped, swallowing air, and nodded, her head still on Niles' shoulder. He momentarily hugged her tighter.

"I have to take the recorder to Detective Lane now," he told her. "I'll be back as soon as I've finished, I promise."

"There is no need, Niles," the detective interrupted, entering the room and making her way to C.C.'s bedside. "You stay with her and I'll take care of everything."

Niles nodded and handed the tape to the detective, who left in a hurry after nodding briskly at the family and chancing a small, encouraging smile at C.C.. The butler supposed the police had a lot to do, and that's what everyone there wanted – the police to take care of apprehending the scum who had hurt C.C..

As soon as Lane had left, silence swelled inside the room. Stewart and B.B. were crying; the others were holding it for C.C.'s sake, but the two parents simply broke down at the deplorable sight of their baby.

"Kitten..." Stewart choked out, fighting the urge to run and squeeze her daughter in a hug. He knew it wouldn't be welcomed, and so did B.B., who was having a similar reaction to Stewart's.

C.C. tried smiling up at her parents, but what they got was a grimace which soon turned into an expression of deep sorrow. She wanted to hug her parents, but she couldn't... she was so very afraid, and she didn't know what to do.

They needed to understand, though, so C.C. leaned in and asked Niles if he could explain her family her whole ordeal for she had no strength to retell it herself. He agreed, of course, and soon Niles was holding C.C. close as he told a story that could have easily been written by the Grimm brothers.

Needless to say, when Niles revealed the full horrors of her captivity, everyone around the room felt like they were being stabbed. No one more so than Stewart and B.B..

"You mean to tell me," Stewart said in a hoarse voice. "That this bastard... abused my child? That he hurt her...?" he trailed off, and Niles could only pity the man.

"Yes, sir," the butler replied. "He did so."

Stewart's face began to crumble, as the knowledge that he hadn't been able to protect his child and the guilt that came with it began to course through his entire body. Fran grabbed the chair by the bed – the one no one had taken – and managed to slide it under the older man just in time for him to collapse into it, face buried in his hands.

Niles held C.C. tighter, subtly encouraging her to bury her face in his neck again. He didn't want her to see her father like this; it would only make her feel worse, knowing that her father was affected by what had happened, too.

B.B. hesitated for a moment, but then put her hands on Stewart's shoulders. She herself was trying very hard not to cry, but just about managing to keep it together for the sake of her daughter. After all of this had happened, the socialite had seemed to develop an entirely new personality, one which prioritised her family above everything else. Getting C.C. back was a huge relief to her, but knowing what the kidnapper had done to her was sickening, and marred the happiness she felt at seeing her daughter alive more than she cared to admit.

"Well," B.B. said at last. "The police are on their way to catch this maniac. And C.C. is here with us."

"That's exactly right," Noel joined in. "They'll find him, and none of us will ever have to worry about him ever again."

"And we'll all be here fer you, Miss Babcock," Fran piped up, keeping her voice level despite the fact that it was obvious the woman was shocked and upset by the whole event. "We'll keep ya safe, an' you'll never have to be by yerself again."

The producer couldn't help the choked sob that slipped through her lips. She had dreamt of this so many times during her captivity... of being back home and being surrounded by her loved ones. She had craved for protection, for comfort, and she finally was safe.

Safe and alive.

Granted, she was far from being well – she knew it would probably be years until she had gotten over what had been done to her – but this was a start. She no longer had to fear the nights, the beatings, the starvation, the loneliness...

They were all there for her.

This notion, however, was as overwhelming as it was happy – she didn't exactly know what to do or say, so she clung to Niles as both she and her father cried. It suddenly dawned on Niles that they needed each other.

"Miss Babcock?" he said softly. "Do you want to hug your father? Like you are hugging me?"

C.C. only nodded, her face still deeply nestled in the crook of his neck.

B.B. was the one who gently helped Stewart up and she then guided him to C.C.'s beside. Niles rose to his feet, giving way for Stewart to sit, and soon father and daughter were hugging tightly, neither wanting to let go.

Stewart cradled the producer as though she were a child, and he rocked her back and forth while repeating the phrase "It's okay... I am here" like a mantra.

Noel walked to his mother and enfolded her in a hug; it was the first time in their lives that the Babcocks comforted each other as they were doing right then, and it felt good.

"I am so sorry, Daddy," C.C. wept. "I am so very, very sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Kitten," Stewart stroked his daughter's hair, and kissed the side of her head. "You've done nothing wrong, and you're safe now. We're all back together."

Physically, yes. Mentally and emotionally, not quite so much. But no one was going to make this correction. It would have been insensitive. The scene was becoming overwhelming for the three remaining people in the room, too; Maxwell had put an arm around Fran and was allowing her to lean her head on his shoulder as tears started to form and flow from her eyes.

Niles, meanwhile, had taken to the chair that Stewart had vacated. He actually needed a moment to gather his thoughts, as it so happened. He'd spent a fair amount of time holding everything together for C.C., but now she was busy being comforted by her family and he didn't know quite what to do with himself.

Well, his eyes knew what to do, as tears began to roll down his cheeks. He wiped them away, not really feeling much apart from a complete sensation of being overwhelmed. He supposed that was how it was going to be for quite some time - bursts of different emotions, each as powerful as the next.

He wiped away the tears, and continued to watch the Babcocks as they all shared one group hug. He doubted they'd ever been so close. Not all together like that, anyway.

Under different circumstances, he would have been thrilled that the family had come together to settle differences and actually comfort and support one another.

But these weren't different circumstances.

These were dire circumstances, and for all the happiness that C.C.'s return had brought, there was an equal amount of pain and sorrow. The woman had truly been through hell, and healing would prove a test of resilience.

C.C. had to recover... she was a fighter... this couldn't break her, right?

He didn't know what would follow – probably she'd stay in the hospital for some weeks, she'd start being treated by a therapist, she'd talk to the police, and then...

Then what?

What would happen?

It was obvious that she couldn't be by herself in her current state! The woman could barely walk as it was, so leaving her on her own bordered inhumanity. They'd all have to put C.C. first now, for the abuse she had endured was more than any person would be able to bear.

He knew that neither Stewart nor B.B. nor Noel could provide her with all the care and attention she'd need, so in his mind the producer should move into the mansion for the time being. There she'd be in a safe environment and would be constantly accompanied.

His idea was soon pushed aside (he'd simply discuss it when the time was more right) as Lane reopened the door, a tense look on her face.

God... what now?

"Mr and Mrs Babcock; Niles," Lane began. "I need an urgent word with you."

The older former couple exchanged a look of concern that Niles was almost completely sure he was wearing, too. The detective sounded more than serious. It couldn't possibly be good news.

Leaving C.C. in the care of Noel, Maxwell, and Fran, the others followed Detective Lane out of the room, Niles closing the door behind them.

Lane sighed heavily, paced a few steps, appeared to bite the inside of her lip, and fussed with her arms. She was clearly trying to gear herself up to say something difficult, but was either having trouble finding the words, or she had exactly the right words and just couldn't bring herself to say them.

Eventually, she exhaled sharply, and blurted out, "Thomas has escaped."

"What did you say?!" Niles immediately responded, feeling his heart starting to race. Had he really heard her right? The looks on the faces of C.C.'s parents told him that he had.

How could the police have let the bastard who'd done so much damage get away?!

"He must have woken and found C.C. gone," the detective explained, running a hand through her hair. "From the looks of the place, he didn't decide to look for her. He must've figured she'd found help already, packed his bags, and took off."

"But you're going to find him," Stewart's words sounded more like a stated threat than a question. "You're going to find him and you're going to put him away so my little girl doesn't have to spend the rest of her life feeling like a prisoner!"

"We are doing all we can," Lane tried her best to reassure. "We have officers out looking for him right now; descriptions are being passed to state troopers, to airport security in the event he should try to leave the country, to everyone who could potentially bring him in."

"Do whatever is necessary," B.B. piped up, leaning against her ex-husband for support. The news had left her feeling a little faint.

"We will," Lane reassured, her voice hardening. "My concern, however, is that we all cooperate to keep Miss Babcock safe. She needs to be supervised at all times, both to prevent her attacker from doing anything to her and also because she will need emotional support."

"You can be sure of that," Niles asserted, thanking that Lane had brought that up. It was the perfect cue for him to voice his suggestion of where C.C. should live. "And seeing as she will need constant company and being in a safe environment, I'd suggest that she moved into the Sheffield Mansion – that is, if we all agree, of course."

Niles looked between his interlocutors and continued, not giving them time to ask questions (or complaints, in B.B.'s case).

"The mansion is almost her home – she has spent most of the past fifteen years there, there is always people around and it's close to this hospital, which will be an advantage when Miss Babcock has started her therapy sessions."

There was silence for what felt like a long stretch of time, but could in reality only have been a few seconds. Stewart gave B.B. a questioning look, as though waiting for her to voice her opinion.

The socialite appeared to be trying to think of something to say. Perhaps an excuse as to why his suggestion wouldn't work, other than the fact that it came from a servant. But she didn't appear to be able to think of anything.

"If there aren't any objections, I don't see why that wouldn't work," Lane cut in. "If she were constantly surrounded by familiar people who could provide her with emotional support, in a safe environment. But of course, Mr Sheffield himself will have to be the one who decides. After all, it is his property."

Niles nodded. He didn't think the British producer would have any objections. The mansion had plenty of room for more than just the family that occupied it, and he'd know how important it was that C.C. be staying in a place where she felt safe and comfortable.

B.B. still looked unsure. Stewart frowned at her.

"It might be for the best," he told her. "I know we're her parents, B.B., but you know that we can't always provide the emotional support that C.C. will need. And Noel jets off to so many places, he couldn't always guarantee she'd be completely safe, either. Maybe it's for the best that she stays with the Sheffields - with her friends."

Lane nodded, as though trying to aid the butler in his quest to get C.C. to live in the mansion. Not that she'd mention it in front of the two parents, but she sensed that both producer and butler needed each other.

Throughout the investigation she had witnessed Niles' love for the woman, and judging by C.C. asking for him as soon as she had gotten to the hospital, she could tell that staying with the butler would be the best for her.

"Fine... you are right," B.B. said after heaving a heavy sigh. "But we'll visit her regularly."

"And I am sure that Mr Sheffield will be absolutely happy to receive you," Niles replied. "I promise that your daughter will be taken care off."

Stewart mustered a small smile and patted the butler's shoulder. "I am sure of that, my boy," he glanced back at C.C.'s room and then back at Lane. "If that is all we'd like to go back to our daughter."

"By all means, do so," the detective ushered them to the hospital room. "Just avoid telling Miss Babcock about this for now – she is distressed enough as it is."

Lane needn't say it – it was tacit that this piece of information would be concealed from the producer. She needed to rest, something which she wouldn't do if she heard that her captor had escaped.

Just when Niles was about to follow the two older people back into the room, Lane stopped him.

"Niles, wait! I... I actually need you to come with me," Lane said softly. At the butler's alarmed countenance she quickly added, "I need you to come with me to... to the house. There are a few of C.C.'s belongings which won't be used as evidence and seeing as she'll probably be living with you..."

That was a bad excuse, both knew it. Truth was that Lane wanted to prepare Niles for what taking care of C.C. was going to be like – she wanted him to have a glimpse of what she had been through so he'd be able to help. Civilians weren't usually allowed in crime scenes, but Niles was not any civilian.

"Alright... let's go."

And so they marched out of the hospital together, and soon they were on their way to the house. It took them almost half an hour to get there, and they lost another ten when they put on their protective gear. He had been told he wasn't allowed to touch anything unless Lauren said otherwise.

They didn't get into the house through the front door; instead, they entered it through the garage and Niles couldn't help but shudder when he saw the wide hole on the far end of the room. It had been covered by the washing machine. He had known there was something odd about that machine… why hadn't he followed his instincts?!

But it wasn't time to reproach himself for not having found her when he broke into Thomas' house all those many months ago. It was time to focus on trying to help her.

They went down the hole through a little ladder and they crouched so as to walk down the long underground tunnel. Eventually, they reached the trap door that gave to what had once been C.C.'s prison.

"This is where she kept her," Lane explained going down into the cellar.

Everything inside Niles was telling him to turn back. To shut his eyes. To look away from what could only be described as a tiny, very personal portion of Hell on Earth. But he couldn't do any of those things. He knew he had to look.

C.C. had had to look. She had had to look every day for months on end. It wouldn't be fair of him to just all of a sudden refuse, not when Detective Lane had brought him all this way, granted him access that not a lot of people had. And especially not when it might mean understanding what C.C. had gone through a little better.

And looking around, he couldn't help but get the sense of what had happened in there immediately. Everything about that tiny, dark little room, still with its table and chair, sink and toilet, and a dirty old mattress on the floor, felt completely and utterly wrong. Dread simply seeped from the walls, crushing every other sense in his body until only fear and an almost indescribable feeling of paranoia remained.

It was like the place had been designed for suffering. Pure psychological torture.

And Miss Babcock had endured it. Every day, for so long...

He felt like breaking down and crying again. But he couldn't. He had to see everything, with a clear head and clear vision.

And he consoled himself with the thought that when this was over, the house would be demolished, the prison cell filled in, and something else would be put on top of it. In cases like this, that was what always happened. All traces of what had once taken place there would be removed, so that the public didn't have to look at it again and be reminded of the horrors that took place there.

If only it were so easy to allow C.C. to forget. There was no safe, healthy equivalent to a wrecking ball for memories.

She'd have to heal, little by little, until the memories that were haunting her faded into oblivion.

He'd be there through thick and thin, that was sure, and the first thing he could do to start helping her was going down into the cellar with Lane. So he carefully climbed down the ladder, the feeling of dread increasing as his feet made contact with the cellar's floor.

The room now looked even smaller than it did from the trap door, if that were possible. There were heaps of carefully folded clothes by her bed, and next to them there was an almost empty laundry basket. He figured doing the laundry was part of her obligations.

He looked around and felt even more disturbed. He could see her belongings scattered all over the room – a pair of small, worn-out shoes, a toothbrush, a hair brush, hair bands, her reading glasses, a dirty apron, a guitar, a knitting basket...

All those items were a testimony that she had been there... that C.C. had been held inside that minuscule cell underneath the ground. It was a wonder that she hadn't gone insane, and it made him realise just how long her recovery was going to be.

But he'd be there for her, no matter how long it took.

Lane leaned against the wall, and sighed. "We collected a ton of evidence already, but as you can see there is still much to do."

Niles couldn't muster a word. He was sure that if he opened his mouth right then, the only thing that would come out of it would be a scream. And speaking of screams, he could almost hear C.C.'s – he heard the ghost of her screams... those screams that had never been heard.

The butler walked to her desk, and scanned the few items on it – there was a half-empty glass of water resting on top of some sheets of paper, and he glanced at Lane to know if he could touch them.

The detective nodded minutely, and so he took them in his gloved hands. They had clearly been written by C.C. and they read:

 _"Chores to do today: Laundry, cooking, cleaning the second-story bathroom and the kitchen. Remember to rinse the stained bedsheets._

 _Meals allowed this week: 4_

 _Sleeping schedule: Mon-Wed upstairs/Thursday-Sat cellar/ Sunday; his preference."_

Everything about the chore list had an air of normality to it that disturbed Niles more than words could say. It was almost like reading the to-do list of anyone else in the world, just going about their daily routine.

Everything that came after, however, put everything firmly in perspective. An eating schedule. The man had truly been starving her.

And the less said about her sleeping schedule, the better.

He put the sheet of paper back where he found it, before he tore it up in his rage. It was probably going to be one of the things collected as evidence later on, and they'd need it in an untouched condition.

Instead, he wandered towards the mattress, imagining what it would have been like for C.C. to spend so many night sleeping on the ragged, old thing.

Cold. Uncomfortable. Perhaps wet, if there were any leaks in the ceiling and it had rained during the night. The fact that she'd survived this place continued to amaze him, and made it all the more imperative for him to look after her now that she was back where she belonged.

"Quite the little house of horrors, isn't it?" Lane suddenly asked.

The question startled the butler, and as he swiftly turned to face the detective, his foot went backwards, and he stepped on the mattress.

And, oddly enough, it crackled.

After an exchange of a raised eyebrow, and nodding, the butler and the detective each took to inspecting the mattress. When they finally came to the conclusion it needed to be flipped over, they found a tiny slit in the fabric, leading into the inner part, where the stuffing would be.

With a certain amount of trepidation, and only after getting permission from Lane, Niles reached a hand inside, and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.

"What is this?" Lane mused aloud, slipping her hand inside the slit again. Sheet of paper after sheet of paper came out of the mattress, and soon they had a small stack of notes carefully piled up between them.

Clearly C.C. hadn't wanted these papers to be found, so she had removed some of the stuffing to hide them. If she had given up some comfort to conceal them, they had to be important.

After the last note had been removed from the mattress, Lane carefully took one in her hands and read it. The butler observer her, unconsciously holding his breath. Lane's countenance soon softened; it was as though she had been touched by what she had found there.

He didn't dare to look at them... if they were another testimony of her suffering he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep himself composed for long.

Lane grabbed the stack of notes in her hands and handed them to Niles.

"Why... why are you giving them to me?" he asked, sitting down on the floor so as to browse the notes.

"Because they are meant for you..." Lane said.

"What..." Niles trailed off, his eyes landing on the notes. It was her handwriting, that much he could tell, and they read:

 _"Niles,_

 _I've decided to write you letters. Maybe it will help... I feel like I need to put my feelings on paper before I go insane._

 _Anyway... I thought of your cheesecake today... When I go back I'll ask you to eat some together."_

 _"Niles,_

 _I reek of Tilex! Isn't it funny? You can joke about me reeking of cleaning products too!"_

 _"Niles,_

 _I learnt how to knit. I'll ask for some wool... maybe he'll give it to me and I'll make you a scarf. It's going to be blue, like your eyes."_

 _"Niles,_

 _I cooked mushroom risotto today. I want to make you some when I go back... if I go back."_

 _"Niles,_

 _I played some music today... I miss dancing with you._

 _"Niles,_

 _I have nothing positive to write. Today he broke me."_

A noise of anguish made its way up Niles' throat and out into the open air before he could stop it. He looked through more – the ones piled up on the floor all around that Lane hadn't given to him. Each and every one started the same way; with his name. They were all addressed to him and no one else.

All that time, she'd been thinking of him. She hadn't wanted her captor to find out that she'd been keeping the notes, either, so it was obvious she needed them.

And she'd been talking to him, for all that time, through these notes.

Had he – his memory, really – been keeping her sane, without him even knowing it?

If these notes were anything to go by, the answer was yes. As well as the disturbing ones, there were plenty of notes detailing things she wanted to do when she saw him again. He didn't know if she'd written them earlier in her captivity, or simply on days when the beatings weren't quite so bad, but he knew that he was going to try his hardest to make sure he fulfilled every single one of them.

Things like the cheesecake would be easy enough to start with. She needed more meals, and she'd always loved it before.

She'd also talked about the things that she'd done, like the knitting – he could actually see what looked like an unfinished project, just the other side of the mattress, and he reached over to pick it up.

It was the scarf that she'd mentioned. A little dirty, from being on the floor, but bright blue.

Like his eyes. Just like she'd promised.

The noise of anguish made its way out again, and turned into a loud sob.

Lane crouched by his side and wrapped his shoulders with her arm. It was simply so... heart breaking? Overwhelming? Humbling? It was all those things and even more...

Her captor had tried to crush the life out of her, and yet she had clinched to hope; she had fought to have positive thoughts during her ordeal. It was probably just another proof of just how brave and strong Miss Babcock was – she had faced darkness and quite possibly the most perverse man she had ever met, and she had escaped.

The wounds, he knew, were deep and were open and bleeding, but he was determined to hold her until they had scarred. He'd stay by her side and hold her hand, no matter what.

He used one of his trembling hands to wipe away the stream of tears rolling down his cheeks, and he held the scarf in the other. He so wanted to take it... but maybe it was evidence... Maybe the police would say no...

"Did she make that for you?" Lane asked, gesturing at the woollen scarf.

Niles could only nod, trying to keep from bursting into loud sobs again.

"Take it," the policewoman said. "And take the notes too. We didn't know about them, and I suppose they'll be a tool to help C.C. recover."

Niles clutched them close to his chest and sniffed, "Really?"

Lane nodded, "They're yours. And, if I can safely go by what C.C. wrote on the one I read, it'll be good for the pair of you to go through them together."

The butler nodded again, letting out a deep, calming breath. He'd have to put the notes and the scarf inside something, but his pockets were covered by the protective gear. He'd have to improvise for the time being. So, he gathered the notes as best he could into a small pile, and wrapped them in as much of the scarf as he could manage.

Luckily there was just enough of it to hold the paper. But if he picked up anything else of C.C.'s, they'd have to find something else.

He didn't know what he was going to do with his newfound items yet, either. Would he tell her right away that he had them? She might not like the fact that he'd seen where she'd been kept prisoner for so long...then again, she'd have to find out eventually. And he was going to give her back personal items, anyway. Like the reading glasses he could see resting on top of a pile of battered books, just by the wall.

Lane noticed where he was looking, leaned over, and picked them up. She neatly folded the temples across so that they were tucked behind the lenses, and placed them on top of the folded scarf.

"There should be a bag in the car," she told him. "You can put everything in there. Well, maybe not the glasses, just in case, but the scarf and the notes will be fine."

Niles gave the detective a small smile. He knew she was breaking the rules here, but it seemed that she was more than willing to look the other way to allow him this small bit of consolation. He needed it, really, for the perceivable future was grim. He'd have to support her; to be the one to hold her together, as she had written in one of her letters, and although he was resolved to help her, he knew it would be hard for his own heart to take.

But it didn't matter how he felt – C.C. came first, and after what he had seen he was more determined than ever before to take care of her... to make her feel safe.

"Thank you..." he glanced around the room and then back at Lane. "Are we... are we done here?"

He said so somewhat sheepishly, because he knew he was supposed to tolerate this for C.C., but he didn't want to spend more minutes than it was necessary inside that hellish hole.

It was almost unthinkable that C.C. had been there for months at a time...

Lane assented with her head. "Yes... we still have to go upstairs, so we better get moving."

The two of them then clambered out of the cellar and dragged themselves back to the garage. They took a moment to swallow big gulps of air as soon as they were back in an open space – neither had realised their need for clean air until then.

"Follow me," Lane said, beckoning him over and they stepped into the house through the back door.

The house was unnervingly spotless and there wasn't one thing out of place, and Niles cringed when he pictured C.C. working as a slave to keep it that way. The second story, however, presented an entirely different picture – more specifically, the master bedroom presented a different story.

The bed was unmade, there were clothes scattered all over the room and it gave the impression its last inhabitant had left in a haste.

But then...

Then Niles felt his insides churning. At the foot of the bed, there was a long chain, and on the bedside table there were a set of handcuffs. To make the sight even worse, what looked like neatly folded woman day clothes were lying on a chair in one of the corners of the room.

"I can't allow you to take those, unfortunately," Lane said when she noticed him staring. "That's still evidence."

"Why did you bring me up here?" Niles felt his voice crack, and his words become strange as he realised bile was making its way up his throat. He swallowed it back painfully.

"Because I thought you should see," the detective replied. "You saw downstairs-"

"And that was painful enough," the butler interrupted, slightly snapping.

Lane's expression became stern, "C.C. lived through both, day and night, for eight months. You won't understand even a little of what she went through unless you see it all."

Niles felt his shoulders drop as he breathed out. She was right. Whether he liked it or not, C.C. had had to go through this. And he wouldn't even begin to know about how she felt, or what she was going through, if he hadn't seen all of it as well. The producer hadn't had the option or ability to get away, so him stepping away just because he was finding looking at the after effects difficult was more than unfair.

He knew that he wasn't above some things, but he was better than that. And C.C. needed him, so if this was the way to reach out to her, he was just going to have to grit his teeth and do it.

Lane's voice softened and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know this is disturbing, and I know I might be somewhat harsh, but she needs you now. And you had to see..."

Niles' head sagged lower and he gazed down at the floor; Lane was right again... he had to see and this was disturbing in ways words couldn't even begin to describe, but it was all for C.C.'s sake.

And he had already promised himself he'd do anything to ensure that she felt contained, safe and happy.

Well... he doubted that she was able to truly feel happy now, but that was his ultimate goal – ensure her happiness.

"I know... and you are right," he heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at the detective. "I am sorry, I was being insensitive."

Lane squeezed his shoulder. "It's alright. This is hard for everyone, and it's especially hard for you. We just need to be brave – just like C.C. was."

Niles could only agree. The bravery that Babcock had shown was almost limitless – she had proved herself a fighter, and he'd consider himself lucky if he possessed an ounce of her bravery. She had gone through Hell, and now it was time for her to get her well-deserved rest.

"You are right..." Niles murmured. "Is there any other room I should see?"

"Not really," Lane replied and Niles felt as though a weight had just been removed from his shoulders. "These two rooms are the main crime scenes – naturally, the abuse happened all around the house, but these two rooms provided most of the evidence of her kidnapping and the periodic abuse."

Niles felt the anger boiling up inside him. He could only think about finding the miserable piece of shit who had done her so much harm and murdering him in cold blood. For every blow he had given her, he'd deliver ten more; for every time he had touched her, he'd hurt him even worse; and for every time he had made her cry, he'd make him howl in pain.

But for now, he had to go back to C.C..

For now her peace of mind came first.

Lane tugged at his arm. "Come on, let's go back."

He needn't to be told twice.

They left the room without giving a second glance and slamming the door behind them.

* * *

 **AN: Last chapter in the uploading spree, lol. After so many months of not updating, I felt like you deserved it. Hope to hear your comments :)**

 **H &L**


	12. Chapter 12

**_Chapter 11_**

 ** _I Hear You_**

Niles was woken up by a pleasant smell wafting into the room. Actually, it wasn't just one scent; it was a mixture of them – he could smell filter coffee, orange juice, waffles... The blend was perfection! His nose tingled with the enticing blend of aromas, and he couldn't help but hum in appreciation. It had been years since he had been awoken by the pleasant smell of a freshly made breakfast. Usually, it was he who prepared it for the family while munching on his own breakfast as he went about his morning routine.

But wait… _who_ was preparing breakfast?

Niles cracked one eye open and glanced at the window. It was still dark outside… he seriously doubted the Sheffields were already up so early on a Saturday. Had they ordered in?

Unlikely.

So if he and the Sheffields were still in bed, that only left one option – C.C. was making breakfast.

That statement was one he would have never imagined would be true, but then again, many things he hadn't considered possible had happened in the past months.

Speaking of months, last night C.C. had been discharged from the hospital after a month-long stay. Much to his relief, Maxwell had agreed to receive C.C.; it made taking care of her a lot more easier and it had also ensured that Niles could attend to her or console her whenever she needed.

And considering what was going on, there was a part of him that felt like C.C. needed him right then.

Shrugging on his dressing gown and tucking his feet into his slippers, he ran a hand through his hair as he made his way downstairs, stifling a yawn.

Sure enough, the producer was in the kitchen, wearing his apron over the day clothes Niles had brought from her penthouse (both clothes and apron were far too large for her, given that she was still underweight) and brewing a pot of coffee. A plate stacked with waffles sat on the counter not too far away. She looked completely focused in what she was doing, as if she were worried about stopping and taking a break. Almost as if she were fearing some sort of punishment for not being ready on time.

The first thing Niles did was blink blearily up at the clock. It had only just turned six in the morning! Had this been her routine for eight months? Getting up practically at the crack of dawn in order to prepare a breakfast for the vile scum that had taken her, all to avoid being punished?

She didn't notice him when she grabbed the plate and turned to take it into the dining room. She came back with a mug in her hands, and Niles thought she might have seen him, so he spoke out loud.

"Good morning, Miss Babcock."

His voice wasn't loud, or harsh, but the extra noise startled C.C. too much, and she jumped. The mug slipped from her fingers, and went crashing to the floor, shards scattering all around her feet across the tiles.

And it was instantaneous...

The producer became dreadfully pale and her whole body stiffened; her eyes widened and they were glued to the mess at her feet. He didn't know what on Earth was going on inside her head, but he could sense it was not good.

Absolutely not good at all...

For a seemingly endless moment, neither moved, but for completely different reasons – Niles didn't want to startle C.C. further, and the producer's mind was going on overdrive. She was on high alert, and she was having a full blown flashback.

This same situation – her dropping a mug – had happened, perhaps, twelve weeks ago. That time, she remembered, Thomas had beaten her black and blue. Apparently, that particular mug had been Thomas' favourite, and she had learnt so the hard way. After the beating, Thomas had dragged her back to her cellar and thrown her into it, not caring that she had been bleeding and nearly unconscious.

She hadn't been able to walk for a week after that beating, and her captor had been "merciful" and had briefly freed her from her obligation of cleaning and cooking while she got better.

So these were the memories playing over and over again in her mind.

"I... I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Niles sighed, and gave a step forward, so as to crouch down and start gathering the bigger pieces of the mug.

 _Grave mistake._

C.C. yelped and threw herself to the floor. She began gathering the shards in her hands, not caring if they cut her palms or fingers.

"I'm sorry... I am sorry, please, I'm sorry," she perceived someone (that someone was Niles but her panic was preventing her from realising so) moving to her and she did what had become an instinct, she covered her head and face with her hands and pressed herself against the kitchen counter. "Please! Please, sir, I won't do it again... don't hit me, sir, please!"

Niles started to panic, not quite sure where to begin calming the situation. Luckily she'd dropped the pieces she'd started to pick up when she'd covered her head, because that meant she wasn't going to do any extra damage to her hands with them. He could see a few cuts already, though, and as the producer was wearing shoes, it would be safe to remove her before trying to clear up the broken china.

He couldn't believe someone had done this to her! That she had been abused to such an extent that one mug being accidentally dropped was enough to send her into a fearful panic, and that she'd rather cut herself when clearing it up than potentially face a beating. A beating that she'd probably get anyway, combined with all the shouting the bastard's voice could take.

Niles didn't approach her yelling, so it could be heard over her begging for mercy, and hoping that would calm her. He knew it wouldn't. She wouldn't register that he wasn't yelling out of anger. Instead, he slowly made his way over and crouched with her, at a safe enough distance that she wouldn't feel invaded. Arms-length, really.

"It's alright," he murmured. "It's just a mug. No one is going to hurt you."

He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing the underside of her arms. He wasn't going to grip her forearms over the top, because that felt like trapping. Underneath gave her the opportunity to back away, if she so chose.

She didn't, though.

But she didn't look up, either.

They were in a limbo for a few moments – there was a maddening tension floating in the air around them, and it mixed with her fear and panic. These toxic emotions soon blended, and Niles feared that C.C. would stay curled up in a ball forever. He knew it was an irrational thought, but after witnessing what he had just witnessed, he couldn't really think straight.

"It's alright, Miss Babcock, it's alright," he repeated, trying to make his words sound even more soothing, if that were possible.

And finally, C.C. began to lower her arms. She did it exceedingly slowly and her body was still trembling, but she was discerning reality from her bad memories. Her eyes soon connected with Niles', and she began to weep anew as the realisation of what had happened dawned on her.

She threw herself in his arms and held him tightly. "I... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to overreact," she choked out between her sobs. "I don't know what happened to me."

Niles only held her tighter – he knew why she had reacted that way, it was common from people suffering from PTSD to have panic attacks or emotional outbursts.

God... he truly wanted to murder the son of a bitch who had done this to her.

"It's alright, it wasn't your fault," he reassured her. He wanted to keep holding her until she had stopped aching so much, but the sight of her injured hands reminded him that he needed to check on those wounds. "You cut yourself," he said softly. "Can I take a look at your hands?"

Hesitating, but then clearly deciding that it was alright, C.C. held out her shaking hands.

Niles peered down at them and frowned thoughtfully. They didn't look deep, but they'd have to be treated right away.

"They don't look too bad, but I'm going to bandage them up anyway," he said. "Is that alright with you?"

Blinking away tears, C.C. nodded.

"Alright," he looked around them, making sure that there were no shards of the mug around that could potentially catch them as they stood up. "I'm going to get to my feet now. Would you like me to help you up, too?"

"Yes please," C.C. replied.

Niles took the underside of the producer's forearms, just as he had done before, and led her away from the shattered mug, towards the sink. Turning the water on, he guided her hands beneath the steady stream, and requested that she wait exactly where she was, until he had fetched a cloth and the First Aid kit.

When he had done so, he returned. Shutting the water off, he gently began to dry C.C.'s hands with the cloth, dabbing at them in what he hoped was a tender fashion.

He could already see some of the cuts starting to close themselves.

The woman didn't whimper, wince or complain as he carefully wrapped her hands with clean, white gauze. It was almost as if she was subconsciously forcing herself to be as quiet as possible. He didn't mention it to her, but he made a mental note to mention it to her therapist, she'd surely know what to do. The producer was taking medication to help her with the psychological effects of the trauma she had endured, but she was still poor in terms of emotional health.

Her physical wounds were healing nicely, but many of her deepest and gravest wounds, Niles knew, were anything but physical.

"There we are," he said as he gave a gentle pat to the back of one of her hands.

The producer remained silent for a few seconds before attempting a smile; she didn't quite manage it, but for Niles it was good enough. "Thank you," her smile fled her face and was soon replaced by a frown. "And I am sorry for making such a fuss."

"It's alright, you didn't do it on purpo-"

Niles trailed off when C.C.'s stomach growled. The noise was awful, for it gave away just how malnourished C.C. was. The producer wrapped her arms around her middle, feeling ashamed. She knew she shouldn't feel bad about feeling hungry, but whenever her stomach protested her captor had elbowed it.

Lucky for her, Niles was anything like her captor.

"Are you hungry?"

He asked out of politeness and also because her therapist had mentioned that C.C. needed to start practicing voicing her basic needs, which had been forbidden during her captivity.

C.C. hesitated, but then shook her head yes. "Yes, I am."

"You sit down and I'll take care of it," Niles said and gently guided the producer to the kitchen table, where she sat down and observed him moving around the kitchen as he made her breakfast and disposed of the remains of the mug.

Eventually, he placed a plate laden with scrambled eggs, bacon and toast before her poured a glass of orange juice for C.C.. He sat down next to her, a cup of tea in his hands. But the producer didn't move. She merely stared at her food, longingly.

"Is there any problem with your food, Miss Babcock?" Niles asked, growing concerned.

C.C. jumped – she had been too focused on her food – and shook her head as she tentatively grabbed the fork sitting right next to her glass of juice. "No! No... I am sorry... I am not used to begin eating if I am not given permission..."

Well, that had just earned the scum who'd taken her yet another punch in the mouth.

Not that it was time to focus on that. It was just a little reminder for later – if the piece of filth ever showed his ugly face again. For now, the focus was C.C., and making sure she felt comfortable. And comforted.

"You don't need permission from anyone," he said, making sure to look her in the eyes so that she knew he meant it. "If you're hungry, eat. You need it."

C.C. didn't need to hear any more. She scraped up a forkful of eggs and started to eat. Eggs, bacon, toast with butter. Her stomach would have shrunk, due to her captivity, so it wasn't long before she began to slow her pace. But she still kept on eating – a combination of an irrational fear that somehow, someone was going to take this all away, and having missed Niles' cooking like no one would believe.

There'd been nights she'd gone to her mattress, shivering, with her stomach growling, and she'd dreamed of all the good things Niles prepared that the Sheffields would be eating, safe and warm in their own dining room.

The memory caused a few tears to leak from the corners of her eyes. She'd missed this so much...

But the tears concerned the butler. Was this all too much for her? Was she in pain from something else? He waited until she'd finished swallowing a mouthful of orange juice, and then he asked.

"Is everything alright, Miss Babcock? Is the food to your liking?"

C.C. grimaced. She didn't want to worry him again... granted, in her current emotional state that was a bit of a utopian wish, but she couldn't help but feel bad for him. The food was delicious, and he was putting so much effort in making her feel comfortable!

Stupid tears...

Her therapist had told her that whenever she was overcome by emotion or had a flashback, it would be beneficial for her to share it with the person who was supporting her at that moment; perhaps talking about it would prevent her from having any more emotional outbursts for a little while.

"I... I just missed your cooking," she confessed quietly, using her fork to play with her food. "There were nights... awful, lonely nights, when I'd lie down and dream of you and the Sheffields – I imagined what you were eating, the conversation that you were be having... I'd picture everything and everyone. It didn't matter that my stomach was empty, because I was there with you..." C.C. trailed off again as a much darker memory came to surface.

"The Event" had happened after Thomas had starved her for a week. She had been so very weak and tired that she hadn't had the energy to try and fight him. And so her mind had drifted away, and the only thing she had been able to think about was about Niles' cheesecake. After Thomas had finished with her, he had taken her back to the cellar and once alone, she had written down a letter to Niles – actually two, but that was not the point.

The first letter spoke about her desire to eat cheesecake with him, while the second briefly mentioned the horror she had gone through.

This was the only topic she couldn't bring herself to talk about with her therapist. The problem was, that many of her problems stemmed from it; the phobia of being touched, her inability to sleep on her stomach anymore due to the way he had held her, her insomnia...

It was truly terrible...

Part of her wanted to tell him about it, about him being the only person who she allowed to touch her, to talk about the fear and the feeling of guilt she had...

But would Niles tolerate it?

Something inside her told her yes.

And, if she could still read body language, something else suggested that he was going to listen, and let her do it.

As if on cue, he rested his arms on the table, and nodded at her encouragingly, his voice soft, "Go on."

He was being so kind, so gentle with her...she hadn't had that sort of treatment in so very long...he'd been most of her comfort since escaping her nightmare, and he seemed more than willing to keep on being there for her. He wasn't like...the man whose name she didn't even want to bring herself to think. Niles was good, and warm, and trying so desperately hard to make sure she felt safe.

If there was anyone she could trust, she knew it was him.

She let out a shuddering breath, and began.

"I...the... _event_ , happened soon after that," she confessed that part quickly, not giving him enough time to verbally react before continuing. "And afterwards, he threw me back in the cellar. I felt...worthless, and dirty...like I could die on the floor where I was lying and no one would bat an eyelid. But I was still so hungry, and...all I could think about...it sounds ridiculous, but all I could think about was the cheesecake that you make. About being sat right here, at this table, with you, eating cheesecake and talking like there was nothing wrong in the world. Because I knew...I still know, that as long as I'm with you, then nothing is wrong with the world. Or at least, it doesn't matter quite so much if something is."

He really tried not to cry, but his eyes welled up faster than he could do anything about.

Niles didn't know quite what to say... here she was, telling him about the most traumatic moment of her captivity, and trusting him more than she trusted her own therapist.

Dr Bort had told Niles what she meant when she mentioned "The Event", and Niles didn't blame her for not calling the barbaric act by its proper name. Even he struggled with the fact that the woman he loved more than anything in this world had been violated by a heartless monster. But to think that he had thrown her back into the cellar as though she were come kind of trash made him see red, and he had to keep himself from punching the table.

Thinking that she had felt dirty and that she had believed no one would have cared about her dying cut through his soul like the sharpest of knives, and he only wanted to take her pain away.

If he only could take the pain away...

Well... he could start by giving her the one thing that she hadn't been able to stop thinking about!

"You... wait one moment," he mumbled and dashed to the fridge. He took an entire cheesecake he had baked a few days ago out of the fridge, grabbed two clean forks and placed the treat in front of C.C..

It was time to talk.

Talk over a cheesecake, like she'd wanted. He made her feel safe; she needed him, and he wasn't going to disappoint her.

Niles reached out for her hand and squeezed it, silently encouraging her to talk a bit more.

C.C. sighed, both out of relief and sorrow. This was not easy for her, but it was necessary.

"There were three more times after... The... The Event, and I always zoned out. I thought of your food. I thought of our zingers..." she took a forkful of cheesecake to her mouth. "But it was the last time what made me escape. He thought I wouldn't do it, that's why he didn't chain me, but I... I couldn't stand it any longer. If I had stayed, it would have killed me."

 _Three more times_. She'd endured that vile, disgusting, garbage excuse for a human being four times.

She deserved more than this cheesecake. She deserved a medal.

C.C. was busy looking thoughtfully down at the food in front of her, "I shouldn't be eating this...I just had breakfast, and I haven't cleaned up, and the waffles are getting cold out in the dining room, and you made this for the Sheffields-"

Niles shook his head, and gave her hand another squeeze, "You can eat as much as you want. I do the cleaning up around here. The waffles can wait, and then be reheated. And I made this cheesecake for the people who need it most. Right now, that's you."

The producer's face screwed up, as if she were about to start crying again, and she turned her hand over underneath his, allowing him to hold it. He appreciated that she felt safe enough to allow him this, and that she had chosen to open up to him. After so many years of insults, pranks, and remarks, this, for lack of a better term, emotional U-turn was almost overwhelming.

But he had to allow her to cry first. To get out the feelings that she'd kept bottled up for fear of retribution for so very long. His own pain at hearing everything she said wasn't her cross to bear.

"Let go, Miss Babcock," he encouraged her, his voice soft and soothing. For some reason it reminded her of cotton candy – velvety, sweet but at the same time fragile. He was trying so very hard not to let his own pain show... and that alone made C.C. want to cry even harder.

She had been trapped in Hell for eight months and violence had been the norm. She had gotten used to the harshness, to the cruelty and pain; Niles was providing the opposite. His protection and his willingness to help her heal were enfolding her... nestling her and giving her some peace.

And she let go...

For a moment she allowed her emotions loose, finally releasing the tight grip she had on them. Being numb had been a "tool" she had used to bear the trauma and stay alive but now that fearful part of her soul knew it was okay to let go.

She could fall apart, for she knew he'd be there to put her back together; she could let part of the sadness and the fear leave her body in the form of pearl-shaped tears. They effortlessly slipped down her cheeks, like rain slides down tree leaves during a storm.

In a sense, it was raining inside her. Before she had escaped, she had been trapped in a never ending storm, but now the storm had become quieter – it was not quite gone, but it was quieter. Now she felt that it was raining; it was a tranquil rain... it reminded her of the climate that one would consider ideal to just stay at home and read a book. It was a softer sadness, but sadness all the same.

Almost without realising it, she scrambled to her feet and let Niles – who had leapt to his feet too – enfold her in a tight embrace.

"It's alright... you are going to be alright," he repeated over and over again.

The feeling of her frail body in his arms was still jarring, and Niles only wanted to cradle her and protect her from everything bad in this world. He wanted to shrink her and hide her in his heart, where he knew she'd always be safe.

He might not be able to do that, but he could make her feel a bit more comfortable.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," he said softly. "You need to rest."

She looked up at him, fear in her eyes. "But will you stay with me?"

"For as long as you please," he replied without even needing to think. He was hers, and she could ask for anything in this world and he'd find a way to give it to her.

They went together up the stairs, the butler not wanting to walk too far behind her in case that felt like she was being ushered, and not too far in front in case that felt like she was being led. If they were going to do anything from then on, they had to do it equally. That meant C.C. telling him what she wanted to happen before any final decision was made about anything.

And he could more than happily live with it. He was hers, after all, and no one else's.

The walk to the guest bedroom that had been designated C.C.'s was fairly short – the room wasn't far from Niles' own. She seemed to relax as much as she possibly could when they got through the door, and although Niles left the door ajar, he didn't close it. He didn't know how much it would feel like entrapment to C.C., and he didn't want her to feel afraid here, in the space that had been reserved just for her at a time when her comfort was top priority.

He allowed her some space as she removed her shoes and lined them up neatly underneath the bed. She then took off the apron she'd almost forgotten she'd been wearing, which he hung on the doorknob, silently promising to put it back in the kitchen when he left. She then seated herself on the bed, and gradually eased herself under the covers.

Niles frowned. C.C. didn't really look at all comfortable. The pillow hadn't been plumped properly, and the covers were probably tugging in all kinds of directions. He could tuck them properly, but would she be uncomfortable at the thought of him being so close, in such a vulnerable position?

"Miss Babcock," he spoke up, perching on the opposite side of the bed. "Pardon me if I am being insensitive, but would you like me to tuck you in?"

He held his breath as soon as he asked, and he carefully observed C.C.'s reaction to his question. The woman didn't seem affronted or uncomfortable; as a matter of fact she looked thoughtful, as though she were pondering the pros and cons of letting him tuck her in.

He knew C.C. was more comfortable around him than anyone else – the fact that she barely allowed anyone apart from him to touch her told Niles so – but he suspected that extended physical contact was still troubling for the woman.

It was no wonder... not after being abused like she had been.

"No," her voice interrupted his musings. He tried not to show his disappointment when she spoke.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"I want you to hold me," she cut him off, shifting a bit to leave more room for him to seat. "I need to talk about... about many things and I... I just..."

"It's okay," he smiled, understanding her point.

There was a moment of silence between them, and C.C. watched Niles toe off his shoes and then slip into bed next to her. She sat up so he could prop up some pillows behind them and then he lay against them. She then carefully lowered herself on his chest.

He wrapped one of his arms around her waist, but when he tried to wrap the other around her upper back she flinched.

"Not that way!" she exclaimed, her voice sounding slightly strained. She soon softened her tone again. "Sorry... it's just... he held me that way when he... well... you know."

"Oh," Niles' arm immediately left where it had been, the butler feeling an awful mix of guilt and sadness churning away in his stomach. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, don't," the producer shook her head, her voice quiet. "It's okay. You didn't know. I mean, it's not like I've really told anyone, right?"

There was a small, uncomfortable silence after her question, but eventually Niles broke it.

"You're telling me right now," he said gently. "...You trust me enough with this."

It was a statement, not a question. And he tried not to make it sound like he was urging her to continue speaking about anything she didn't want to talk about.

She'd have to speak about it eventually, but he didn't necessarily feel that it had to be him who heard it – it was a combination of feeling like whether or not he had the right to such information, and if he could take hearing about it without wanting to dismember the perpetrator.

But if she trusted him as much as everything so far suggested, he felt he was probably going to hear it anyway.

"Yes, I do," the producer's voice came softly, bringing him out of his thoughts. He felt her take a deep breath against him. "Probably more than anyone else. I feel like...I feel like I'll look up from someone else, and see them judging me, and make me feel small. But you...you, I look up from, and all I see is a man who wants to understand more, and I feel like an equal."

Her statement made him feel both honoured and sorrowful at the same time. He was honoured because she had put her trust in him, but at the same time having to talk about this made his heart ache. He couldn't unmake what had been done to her, but he could listen... no matter how hard it was.

He also couldn't believe that she, C.C. Babcock, the feared producer, now considered herself like she wasn't his equal. The way she had said it suggested that she considered herself an inferior and that when she was with him she briefly got the illusion or feeling that she was an equal...

What she didn't understand, was that she was not inferior – she was a strong, brave beautiful woman who deserved nothing but happiness. She had nothing to be ashamed of; what had happened hadn't been her fault.

"You are my equal, Miss Babcock... you aren't small or inferior, and you are stronger than anyone I've ever known."

She smiled and snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest. This was the safest she had felt in a long, long time.

"You know what he used to say?" the producer began in a quiet and emotionless voice. "He used to say that no one would hear me scream. And I believed that he was wrong... I tried to prove him wrong... so I screamed and screamed until I had no voice," the producer took a deep breath and, after holding it for some seconds, she let it out in a long, shuddering sigh. "And in the end, he was right – no one heard. Do you know what he said when he beat me? That no matter how much I struggled, I was always going to be weaker, and my bruises and cuts were evidence of this. And do you know what he said the first time he forced his way inside me? He said that I was just a broken toy... a broken doll with which he could do as he pleased."

Niles swallowed hard to stop the bile forcing its way up his throat. How dare that bastard, that complete and utter monster, talk about her like that?!

A broken toy implied a useless, worthless thing that no one would want to keep, or have around. Something that could be thrown away at any given notice, if its owner so chose. The scumbag had got it into her head that she was worth nothing, not to him or to anyone, and that when he was finished with her, she herself would be finished.

 _Never_. She was worth more than all the riches and richest experiences the world had to offer. He wanted to keep her closer to him than his own heart, and he'd defy anyone who tried to send her away. He'd protect her until his dying breath, and use his living ones to show her that she was anything but useless.

And she was anything but broken. She was steel, and all she needed was to realise this again.

He had to pull away from her a little. It startled her slightly, but thankfully not too much, and she turned to look at him, confused. He needed to look in her eyes for what he wanted to say, anyway.

"No," he began, shaking his head. "The vile piece of filth that did this to you was wrong, about so many things. You might not have been heard at first, but you are heard now, and your voice is stronger than ever. As strong as the rest of you – cuts and bruises are not a sign of weakness, they are a sign of fighting, and you have fought more bravely than most people can even imagine. And you are not a toy. You are a person. A person with a courageous spirit, and a beating heart, and more love than dark thoughts and evil, undeserving people can ever imagine."

And once again the metaphorical rain began; a rain that was exteriorised in the form of delicate droplets that were sliding down her sunken cheeks. She closed her eyes and pressed her face against his chest, letting the walls that had made her strong fall down.

She was crying because this wonderful man had been her lifeline, both during her captivity and now that she was struggling to recover. His voice in the dark cellar had been like the sweetest, most wonderful melody, and now that she was in his arms, she felt like she herself had become part of that glorious melody.

The question that remained, however, was exactly why she felt so at ease with him. Well... if she was being honest, she already knew the answer.

But did he love her too?

As much as she loathed to admit so, her captor had planted doubt in her heart, and it had grown like weed. Was she as wonderful as Niles said she was? Or was Thomas right and she was nothing but a toy?

And if the latter were true, why did Niles care so much about her?

"I don't know if I am strong, Niles," she wept, blindly reaching out for his hand; she intertwined their fingers as soon as she found it. "I don't know if I am courageous or if I am brave..." she made a pause and snuggled impossibly closer to him. "But what I do know, is that I can love... during my captivity I heard a voice – a voice I came to call the voice of reason. It was the voice of someone I know I love more than I love anyone else; this voice kept me grounded and made me company when I was alone, it helped me sleep when it sang lullabies, it gave me the strength I needed to get to the hospital in the midst of a blizzard..." the producer looked up at him, straight in the eyes – his were full of tears too. "That voice, belonged to you."

Niles' heart had been in his mouth from the moment she mentioned the lullabies.

He remembered the letters that Detective Lane had allowed him to keep – remembered reading about the songs that had helped her through the worst nights of her life. His voice, his memory, he himself had kept her sane, willing herself to survive.

He'd been there for her, without even realising.

And in that idea of him being there for her, she'd realised that she loved him, too.

It had been the darkest night, but it looked like the brightest dawn was on its way.

All he had to do was confirm it, and make it real.

"Did the voice...my voice..." he had to gulp heavily between his words, "Did my voice tell you...just how much I love you, too?"

C.C. choked on a sob, "It told me the real you cared, and that I knew that you loved me, but it never said..."

From underneath his tears, Niles managed a small chuckle, "Well, it was obviously waiting until you could be told by me personally. Because I love you, C.C. Babcock, with all my heart. And I'm going to spend every day from now onwards proving it to you."

If the circumstances had been different, Niles would have pulled the woman in for a kiss – a sweet, loving kiss on the lips. But given what had happened to her he merely held her close and dropped a small kiss on the crown of her head. He felt her tighten her grip on him when he did so.

"I love you," she said in between her sobs. "And I am sorry it took me so long to realise it."

Niles shushed her, and the producer's cries calmed down until they became soft whimpers. He could feel the dampness in his shirt from her tears, but he didn't care... she was finally his.

Besides, he'd rather be drenched in her tears than let her suffer alone.

After their confession they fell in a comfortable silence, neither of them really wanting or needing to say anything else. They had shared an emotional morning and had talked of a number of extremely sensitive topics, so a little bit of peace was exactly what they needed. C.C. was also exhausted, for she had barely slept since she had escaped from the cellar around a month ago. They'd talk more when she was more rested, so Niles let her doze off on his chest.

He still had to tell her about Thomas having escaped, though...

The producer hadn't asked much about him or the investigation; she had limited to answering the police's questions and providing biological and physical evidence of the abuse she had suffered. Her mind was still too focused in readjusting, and honestly, the least she thought about her kidnapping, the best.

But she needed to know. He'd tell her eventually, when she wasn't quite so vulnerable.

Right then, however, he only wanted to hold her.

Just moments before he, too, fell asleep, he felt her dropping a gentle kiss on his chest.

* * *

 **AN: Hello there! Firstly, we wanted to thank you for all the support and reviews. They mean a lot to us and truly makes us happy! Here we give you another chater. We hope you ejoy it!**

 **Let us know what you guys think!**

 **H &L**


	13. Chapter 13

**_Chapter 12_**

 ** _Close Call_**

After their first nap together two months ago, it hadn't taken long for C.C. to ask Niles if she could stay with him during the nights. Up until he had started holding her as she slept, the nightmares had been terrible and they had kept her in veil more times than she cared to admit. But since they had started sleeping together in the same bed, the nights had (almost) ceased to be an ordeal for the producer.

His hold on her made her feel safe – as though nothing wrong could happen to her – which had been the key for her to allow herself to drop her guard and fall asleep at night.

C.C. had soon moved into Niles' room, and now butler and socialite were practically living together. Niles had brought almost all of C.C.'s belongings from her penthouse to the mansion, and Maxwell had made it clear that she was welcome to stay for as long as she needed and wanted.

C.C. was far from being alright, though, so everyone knew her stay at the mansion would be long. No one minded, either. She was welcome, and the family were trying their best to make her feel welcome and at home. Whenever Niles had to go down to the police station or had to attend to his duties as a butler (which had been reduced, for Maxwell prioritised C.C. having support rather than having a full-time butler) Fran would entertain C.C. with stories or by watching movies together; Maxwell would let her read some contracts, files or scripts when she felt like it and the children were making an effort to be extra nice towards her. Even Sylvia had showed support in her own way by bringing her loads of food and treats.

But even if C.C. was certainly feeling more at home and content, readjusting to life outside the cellar was still challenging. Try as she might, she couldn't quite break the routine that Thomas had forced down upon her. It wasn't unusual for C.C. to feel a compulsion to clean or cook and it was still impossible for her not to leap out of bed at five o' clock, always desperate to go downstairs and start her chores.

As it so happened, today had been one of her bad days. They weren't uncommon, but their frequency was slowly decreasing – granted, there were still more bad days than good ones, but at least she had all the support she'd need. Today, C.C. had been awoken by a nightmare and it had taken Niles twenty minutes to calm her down and consequently get her to go back to sleep. He'd held her for the rest of the morning, only leaving to prepare breakfast. She hadn't wanted to leave her bed for the better part of the day, so she and Niles had spent the day watching TV or simply holding each other. She hadn't wanted to speak, either – Niles had learnt that the producer found solace in silence when she was particularly overwhelmed. She had fallen back asleep near dinner time, and Niles had carefully slipped out of bed to prepare her dinner.

She deserved to be pampered, so he decided to prepare her favourite – mushroom risotto and baked potato with cream cheese – and take it to bed on a tray. It was probably a good way to distract her from the particularly hard day.

He left the door slightly ajar when he left and once he was out of her earshot, he heaved a pained sigh. Not that he'd say it aloud, but he was struggling too. Ever since she had come back, she had confided in him with the many horrors and tortures to which she had been subjected, and whenever he was alone guilt and sorrow suffocated him. He couldn't bring himself to stop thinking about the abuse she had suffered, and more often than not his mind conjured terrible images of her being beaten, starved and…

He couldn't even think the word.

It was in the midst of one of Niles' mental sessions of self-torture when Maxwell stepped into the kitchen, completely unbeknownst to Niles. The producer observed his friend working on C.C.'s dinner, something akin to sorrow shinning in his eyes – Maxwell had known Niles since they had been toddlers, and he could always tell when something was troubling him. And judging by the look on his face he was clearly distraught.

"Everything alright, Old Man?"

His employer's voice caused Niles to start. Luckily he'd already finished putting everything he needed to on the tray for C.C. – he was hoping to get back up to her before she noticed he'd gone, in case she panicked about where he was, and he wasn't planning on delaying that by having to stop and clear up spilled food and broken china.

"Uh, yes, sir," he nodded at Maxwell, before gesturing to the tray. "I was just preparing Miss Babcock some dinner. Given the routine her mind has been forced into, I thought cooking for her and having her meal taken to her might help to break it."

"You seemed to be doing a little more than just preparing a tray, Niles," the British producer leaned on the counter, and pointed at his face. "I don't often see you look so troubled by something. And, seeing as how you've taken it upon yourself to be C.C.'s champion and protector, I'd wager an extremely safe bet that it's to do with her."

What a fine time for his employer to notice _something_.

"You've hit the nail right on the head there, sir," he sighed.

"Did you want to talk to me about it?" Maxwell asked, concerned. "I am your friend, and C.C.'s friend as well. And I haven't seen you look so down since before she found her way back to us."

Niles hesitated. The offer was tempting... although he would never desert C.C. in this time of need, that didn't mean he didn't need someone with whom he could speak about his sorrows, too.

Every new piece of information that C.C. told him, felt like a bullet going through his heart; it tore at him, and although he knew he had to be her hero, he couldn't help but give in to his own sadness from time to time.

This was probably what he needed. Talking. Maxwell was a good friend – him letting C.C. stay at the mansion was proof of this – and Niles trusted him. He knew the producer could be thoughtless, but he was a loyal and trustworthy friend when it came to important matters.

Niles sighed. "Let me check if she is still asleep. She was taking a nap when I came downstairs; if that is the case, I'll be back in a moment."

"Very well," Maxwell replied, and sat himself down on the kitchen table while Niles tiptoed back to C.C.'s room.

After he had made sure that C.C. was, indeed, sound asleep, Niles returned to the kitchen. He was pleasantly surprised when he found Maxwell had prepared a cup of tea for each of them. It was seldom that Maxwell did that.

"So," the British producer began as Niles sat down. "What's wrong?"

Niles grimaced. "I think that the more appropriate question would be what isn't wrong," the butler said listlessly, taking a sip of his tea. "It's just... the abuse she suffered was... barbaric! To think that that son of a bitch violated her four times-"

"That he did what?!" Maxwell exclaimed, making a gargantuan effort to keep his voice soft so as not to wake C.C..

The butler still shushed him out of panic. He didn't want anyone – especially not C.C. – to come downstairs and find them talking about this. He might have needed, perhaps desperately, to talk this through with someone, but it still felt like a massive abuse of C.C.'s trust. She'd never asked him to not tell anyone else, but he still felt that maybe she hadn't meant for anyone apart from him and the therapist to hear it.

"I'm sorry, Old Man, I just..." Maxwell shook his head in disbelief, his face screwed up in disgust. "Four times...and she's suffered in silence for so long...!"

Niles took another sip of his tea, not caring that it was almost scalding him, "Indeed. And every time I hear more, I hate the monster who did it more. I can't imagine actually going through the things she's told me, and when I listen to her, all I want to do is break down and cry..."

"I can imagine so," Maxwell stared contemplatively down at his own tea. "She's been so strong, going through all of this. And you are doing a very noble thing by listening to her, Old Man, and letting her take her time to work things out. I've opened my home to her, but you've given her something far more valuable."

Niles arched a questioning eyebrow at the producer. "What do you mean?"

Maxwell stared at him for a few moments, as though he were trying to understand something. The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips and he gave a disbelieving snort. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

Maxwell rose to his feet and gave a few steps before he plopped himself down on the chair next to Niles'. He put a hand on his shoulder and patted it. "You are giving her safety, support, comfort... love."

Silence stretched for a few moments before Niles heaved a sigh.

"Is it that obvious?" the butler asked, taking another sip of tea.

Maxwell assented with his head. "Yes, Old Man, it is. It's been obvious since she first disappeared."

Well... the British producer had a point. Ever since C.C. had been kidnapped, he hadn't tried to disguise just how much he cared for the blonde woman. Quite the opposite, in fact. But he and C.C. hadn't come clean about their relationship, either; it was still too new and her emotional situation was still too frail. The two men remained in silence for a few minutes, each of them engrossed in their respective teas and thoughts; all of the latter had to do with a certain blonde, though.

"It's going to be a long way up, isn't it?" Maxwell spoke, breaking the silence. "Especially since the bastard escaped. Speaking of that, have you told her yet?"

"Not really..." the butler heaved a sigh. "I wouldn't know how to-"

"No!" a sudden and very familiar voice wailed.

 _Oh God._

 _Oh God, oh God, oh God..._

Niles' mind could think of nothing apart from those words, encapsulating his sheer panic at C.C. not only overhearing them, but overhearing them talking about how her captor had escaped. He was out there somewhere, no one knew where, and there was nothing they could do about it apart from letting the police continue to search.

But he had to get up. He had to reassure her that everything would be fine, even if things didn't seem that way right then. He'd protect her, with his life if he had to, and the Sheffields and her own family would be right behind to keep her safe if he couldn't manage it by himself.

Not that he didn't think he couldn't. If it came down to being just between him and the monster, he knew he'd kill the vile creature. Not for his own satisfaction, but to pay back every single thing he'd done to C.C..

But now what was needed was for her to feel reassured that that was what would happen. No monster was ever touching her again.

Leaving his tea behind, he rose from his chair, only to see her stumble forwards, legs weak, clutching at the banister of the last few steps.

"He's out there..." she croaked. "He's coming...for me..."

"C.C.-" Niles reached out with both arms, as if to catch her before she fell, but she practically flew past him to the sink, where she began to throw up noisily.

Both men watched helplessly as she hurled the little she had eaten that day into the sink. Never in their lives had they seen panic do this to a person – they had never seen panic cause someone to come apart at the seams...

C.C. wasn't just afraid, she was terrified. Absolutely terrified. She was as pale as a ghost, her whole body was shaking, she couldn't catch her breath, and her heart was pounding out of her chest. The producer gripped the counter as she vomited, and soon Niles made his way to her.

He went slowly so as not to scare her – or, well, so as not to make her more scared than she already was – and gently rubbed her back as she vomited. He had to force himself not to cry due to the gruelling sight before him.

That bastard...

Niles gritted his teeth; the piece of shit had done so much harm to her... but he had vowed to help her through this ordeal, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

"He won't hurt you," he said sternly, hoping that his words calmed her. "You are safe here."

Although she had finished vomiting, C.C. was frozen in place, eyes wide and hands planted firmly on the counter. The world around her was spinning and the sounds that surrounded her were muffled by a dark, lingering thought.

 _Thomas was free._

Thomas had escaped.

And he was coming for her.

"I am not safe... he will get me..." she whimpered, her breathing shallow.

Why was she feeling so dizzy?

"No he won't," Niles' voice said soothingly. "You are safe with me."

But she couldn't believe it... not when Thomas was free. She almost didn't feel when her knees gave out beneath her, or when she fainted right into Niles arms.

"C.C.!" Niles cried out in his panic. He held her close, trying to angle her so that he could hold her with one arm and use the hand of his other one to lightly tap her face, hoping she'd come to. "C.C., please, wake up!"

No such luck. She was out cold, and he didn't know what to do. He had to get her somewhere comfortable, but how? Manoeuvring her upstairs would be difficult, but getting her to the sofa in the living room would take twice as long, and they'd have to go through the dining room to get there, which presented lots of awkward opportunities on its own.

Could he lay her on the floor? It didn't seem right to do that, not when she'd been through so much, and waking up on a cold, hard floor, was so horribly familiar...she might accidentally think that she was back in her cell, and panic again, and he didn't want that.

She'd already been through so much, he didn't want her to be hurting like this. Oh, God, why hadn't he told her the truth straight away? It had led to this. She was going to be so upset with him for not being truthful when she woke up...

Not that that part was so important. Getting her somewhere comfortable was, however.

The stairs it was. Their room was close on the landing, at least.

"Sir, please – help me get her upstairs," his words to Maxwell were almost pleading. "We need to get her comfortable."

The British producer needn't be told twice. He quickly walked the short distance that separated him from Niles and C.C. and scooped the producer's legs up.

"Lead the way, Old Man," Maxwell said, and so the two men slowly made their way up the stairs.

She was so light from the weight loss that carrying her didn't really represent a physical effort for the two friends. The hardest part was making sure that any part of her body bumped against something as they carried her, but once they reached the upstairs landing Niles and Maxwell easily got the woman to their bed.

While Niles tucked her in, Maxwell closed the blinds and went to the bathroom to look for a cold cloth which he then gave Niles so he could dab at C.C.'s forehead.

"I can't believe it..." Maxwell muttered in a broken voice. "How could someone do this to her?!"

Just when Niles was about to reply they heard the sound of glass crashing coming from downstairs, making both friends start. They shared a panicked look and Niles practically leapt to his feet.

"What was-"

"Stay with her," Niles ordered as he yanked the door open and took off for the kitchen.

There was no one when he got there, but someone had broken the kitchen window and thrown a small package inside. It was lying on the floor, and Niles took it in his trembling hands.

When he opened it he actually felt sick.

They were a number of photos and a note – photos of C.C. and a note from her kidnapper. The wretched piece of paper read _"You can't hide from me. You will be back in that hole soon."_

And the pictures... God the pictures! They depicted different moments from her captivity; a photo of a healthier-looking C.C. sleeping on a mattress (probably this one was taken shortly after her kidnapping); a photo of C.C. wearing an apron and cleaning the bathroom; a photo of an unconscious C.C. bruised, bleeding and lying on the floor of the cellar; a picture of C.C. in a cotton nightgown curled up in a ball on her mattress...

Each image burned into his retina, and the hatred inside him for the man that had done this burned even hotter. He was surprised he himself didn't burst into flame with the intensity.

There was no way on Earth C.C. was going to see these. If he could help it, she'd never know this had happened at all. Well, maybe not entirely like that. Keeping everything from her hadn't exactly worked out well the first time. Perhaps he could let her know that there had been a note and some pictures, but just never let her see them.

He'd take them to the police. That was for the best. Make sure Detective Lane knew about them, and they could be used in evidence when they eventually found the scumbag who was still hiding out there somewhere.

Somewhere close by, if he knew where C.C. was...

The police were definitely going to be interested in that.

He took the package upstairs, but he diverted away from C.C.'s room and went into his own, putting it away for the moment so he could explain what had happened to Mr Sheffield. Then he'd go, and take the awful note and the hideous photographs with him. He'd hand them over and then explain what had happened to C.C.. That way she couldn't even be tempted, out of morbid curiosity, to look at what her captor had done.

He chose to call Lane first, too. His blood was still boiling from the whole event, so he'd better take a moment to calm down before going back to C.C.'s room. He didn't want her to see him angry – God know she had seen and experienced enough violence as it was.

He yanked the phone from its base and dialled Lane's number, pressing the keys a little bit too hard. The tone buzzed and buzzed until a familiar and clearly stressed voice picked up.

"Detective Lane speaking."

"Evening, Lane," Niles said. He knew he didn't really need to tell her who he was – they had spoken on the phone so many times that by now their voices were anything but unknown or unrecognisable to the other. "There has been an incident."

"What?! Is C.C. alright? You need me to send an officer?"

"She is physically fine..." he replied and soon trailed off.

"But emotionally not so much, right?" she completed.

"Yes... she had a panic attack and fainted. I hadn't told her about Thomas having escaped until today. But that is not why I am calling you – that scumbag left us a very unpleasant package."

There was a second or two of quiet as Lane contemplated this.

"What kind of package?" she eventually asked.

"A note, and some rather...disgusting photographs," Niles grimaced even at the memory.

"Can you bring them over?"

He nodded, even though she couldn't see him do so, "I will be bringing them by very soon. I just need to inform Mr Sheffield of what has happened."

"Good, do that and meet me as soon as possible," the policewoman's voice had an ordering edge to it. "Will you tell C.C. about it as well?"

"After the photos are with you, yes," Niles replied. "I don't want her to see them, even by accident. But she will know as soon as I get back. For now, I'll let her rest."

"Okay," Lane said quickly. "I'll be down here waiting for you to bring the photos. Don't be too long."

"I won't," the butler bid her goodbye, and hung up the phone, before heading back to C.C.'s room.

She was still lying down when he poked his head round the door, but Maxwell had propped her head up on pillows, and she was resting on her side.

"Can I have a word with you, sir?" Niles asked, still slightly unable to believe that he was about to have to explain this to his employer.

Maxwell looked up from C.C. and met Niles' gaze. "Of course, Old Man, just give me a moment."

The British producer rose to his feet and delicately covered C.C. with an extra blanket that he had retrieved from the closet. He was just as worried as anyone else, but having actually seen just how affected C.C. had been by her ordeal had made him feel a compulsion to help her; to make her feel safe.

Because that was all that mattered now – her being safe.

The two childhood friends took one last glance at C.C. before closing the door behind them, leaving it ajar for the blonde's comfort.

They didn't really take long to get to Niles' room; it was only a few doors down, after all. They left this door open too, but giving the nature of what they were going to discuss, Niles couldn't help but feel that perhaps it would be wiser to lock the door.

That was out of the question, though. If C.C. needed them, they wanted her to be able to get to them (or vice versa) as fast as possible.

"What on Earth happened downstairs?" Maxwell asked, keeping his voice low for C.C.'s sake.

Niles' expression darkened as he took the perturbing package from its hiding place and showed it to Maxwell. He was not going to let him see the pictures – not only they were incredibly disturbing, but also he felt it was an invasion to C.C.'s privacy. Those pictures showed her in a state of vulnerability, and Niles knew that C.C. would loathe if others saw them.

"What is that?" Maxwell asked, attempting to take the envelope from the butler's hands.

"This..." he began as he swatted Maxwell's hand away, "Is a package that contains a threat – a threat to C.C.. Her captor knows she is here so he stuffed this envelope with disturbing pictures and a threatening note before breaking the kitchen window and tossing it inside our home."

Maxwell's mouth dropped open, "He knows she's here?!"

"Apparently so," Niles gripped the package in both hands tightly, not letting the other man glance inside by tucking it under his arm and holding it there securely. It would also stop him from taking the note and the photographs and ripping them to shreds.

"But how?!"

The butler shrugged unevenly at the question, "He either followed us back here after she was discharged from the hospital, or knew that as this was her place of work, he might be lucky and she'd find it. I can only thank God it was me who did, and not her."

Maxwell frowned down at the package, and nodded at it, "And you're taking them to the police right now?"

"I think it might be a case of urgency, sir," he began to head for the door, but turned back to his employer one last time. "Though we must agree that I will be the one to tell C.C., when I get back. I don't want her seeing these photos, or the note."

"No, of course not, Old Man," Maxwell waved at the door. "Go, and take all the time you need. I'll check in on C.C., and get the glass cleaned up downstairs. I might not be a dab hand at it, but we can't have anyone cutting themselves going into the kitchen."

Niles nodded briskly and took off in the direction of the stairway.

He was in a hurry, both because he knew Lane needed these pictures as soon as possible, and also because he feared that the longer he kept them, the greater the risk of him tearing them apart. The pictures were perverse, macabre, sadistic... and a thousand more adjectives than he could probably come up with. It really would take a sick animal to do what this excuse of a human being had done.

He still blamed himself for C.C.'s kidnapping – he made a mental note to tell her just how sorry he was for that as soon as she was feeling a bit better – but he knew he had to keep a level head and concentrate on the task at hand. That's why he almost ran to the police department, always keeping a vigilant eye in case he caught even the tiniest glimpse of Thomas.

Part of him wished that to happen. It would give him the opportunity to get back at him for every single thing he had done to his beautiful C.C..

He hastily greeted a few police officers when he got to the station and marched to Lane's office in autopilot. He had become a regular in the department, so everyone knew who he was and vice versa. Lane's office was at the far end of the East corridor, and as usual, he found her gulping down a cup of coffee when he entered the office without knocking.

"You came faster than I expected," she said as greeting, pouring a cup of coffee for the butler too.

"Trust me, after the evening that I've had, I want this son of a bitch locked up sooner rather than later," he snarled, tossing the package to Lane and taking a seat on the chair before her desk.

Lane merely nodded as she emptied the envelope and browsed its contents. It didn't take long for her lip to curl up in disgust.

"Bastard..." she hissed, taking the picture of a beaten C.C. in her hand and turning it around. Niles hadn't noticed the inscriptions behind them. The one Lane was holding read _"This will be nothing compared to the one you are going to get for disobeying me"._

He didn't even bother looking at the notes on the rest. He knew he wouldn't like what he found. He had reason enough to hate the bastard already, he didn't have to add any fuel to that fire. At least, not in the presence of a police officer.

"What are you going to do with these?" he asked, hoping that might just take the edge off. Distract him enough to prevent him from punching Detective Lane's desk. His violence was better spent elsewhere.

"We'll take them in and put it with the rest of the evidence," she explained. "We'll also see if we can grab any security footage from the stores and restaurants nearest the mansion. If we're lucky, our perpetrator passed by one of them, and it might give us a clue as to his current location."

"And what about the note?" he was still concerned about it.

Even if he would protect C.C. with his life, the thought of the man coming for her at the mansion filled his heart with dread. He'd fight that scum to the death if he had to, but he'd rather C.C. didn't have to witness any more violence and anger.

"We'll put the local officers on alert, so they'll be on the lookout," Lane said. "If I can, I'll ask that a few extra boys be put on that shift each day, too. If we set a perimeter it might scare him out of the area, and then he could disappear entirely. We have to tread a very fine line."

Niles nodded, his brown furrowing. The situation was indeed difficult, because any course of action they took could entail dire consequences. The last thing he wanted, however, was that son of a bitch to escape, so they truly had to be careful. His main concern was Thomas finding a way to get into the house without them realising and taking C.C. away. If that happened he'd hunt him down and murder him with his own hands.

But that wasn't going to happen... she was safe as long as she stayed in the mansion.

"We'll do anything necessary to ensure her safety without compromising the investigation," Niles replied sitting back against his chair. "And-"

Niles was cut off by the shrilling sound of his mobile phone. He frowned and declined the call – he had more important things to do than talk on the phone.

"Sorry," he said to Lane as he dropped his phone on the table. "As I was saying I-"

Once again the phone rang, and just when Niles was about to decline the call again, Lane stopped him.

"Take it, I can wait," the detective said, ushering him with her hand.

Niles begrudgingly grabbed the phone and accepted the call. "What?!" he barked.

"Niles, why in the bloody Hell didn't you answer your phone?!" Maxwell screamed from the other end of the line. He sounded positively desperate.

"Sir I-"

"C.C. is gone! She escaped! Old Man she asked me to get her some water and she sneaked out through the front door while I went to the kitchen!"

"Oh my God!" Niles leaped up from his chair. "Do you have any idea where she could've gone?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lane follow his lead and rise out of her seat.

"No, no, I don't," Maxwell's voice sounded like he was about to break down at any given moment. "I left to look for her just now, but I don't know which direction she went in, or if she caught a cab – she could've gone anywhere, Niles! And I had to get back and let you know!"

"Alright, sir, I understand," Niles' words were calm, but his mind was shifting into overdrive. Where could she have gone? Where would the most likely place be? Had she gone back to her penthouse? Had she caught a cab? Oh, God, Thomas was still in the area! What if he found her first?! They had to get back there and find her, right away. "I'm on my way home right now. Stay at the mansion in case she comes back, and enlist the help of anyone who returns in finding her."

"What about the...the scumbag?"

Niles gritted his teeth, "Never mind about him! All we can do is make sure we get to her before he does, and if we sit around worrying about what he's doing, then it could very well be too late."

He heard his employer sigh down the other end of the phone, "You're right, Old Man. I'm sorry. I'll do what I can here. Hopefully she'll either turn up here or you'll find her out there."

"We're about to find out, one way or the other," he hastily said goodbye to his friend, and shut the phone off, looking up at Lane.

"C.C. left the mansion by herself?" the detective asked.

"Yes!" Niles almost screamed. "She was traumatised by the notion that the scumbag was free and she must be confused!"

"Then there is no time to lose," Lane exclaimed and both policewoman and butler ran out of her office and towards her car.

C.C. could be anywhere, so looking for her by foot would be foolish (not to mention that it would delay things). He got into the passenger seat, and after Lane had buckled her seatbelt, she turned on the engine and sped off.

According to Maxwell she had escaped maybe ten minutes ago so, given her current physical state, she couldn't be very far. It was good that Maxwell was helping, it meant they had another pair of eyes out there.

But as the minutes went past and there was no sight of the producer, Niles began to panic. Where had she gone? Had she taken a cab to her penthouse?

Or had she... had she...

The butler shuddered. He didn't even want to think about that possibility. He couldn't lose her… not again.

"There!" Lane exclaimed and stopped the car.

And there she was... maybe half a block away and clad in her pyjamas, was C.C.. It was painfully clear that she was confused – that she had no specific place she wanted to go.

But she was fi-

Suddenly, from a shadowy alley, emerged a broad-shouldered man. He swiftly gave a blow to C.C.'s head. She fell to the floor and the man tried to grab her legs and drag her into the alley.

Practically tearing his seatbelt from his body, Niles flung open the car door and raced towards the scene, bellowing.

"Get away from her!" he shouted at the shadowy man, who was trying but failing to take C.C. into the alley.

"NYPD, put your hands in the air!" Lane came up behind Niles, backing him up, flashed her badge, and raised her gun towards the villain.

Slowly, he did as he was bid, dropping all hold of C.C. and allowing Niles to pull the producer out of harm's way. The kidnapper watched as he did so, a hint of both a snarl and a smirk playing about his features.

"You have her for now," the monster warned. "But not for long. One day soon, she'll be back where she belongs."

He then turned and hightailed it into the darkness of the alley. Lane fired several rounds after him, but nothing seemed to happen. The man clearly knew how to evade capture, including capture through firearms. And the alley appeared to have an opening at the other end, but there were various side alleys that it fed off it, like tributaries to a river.

He could have slipped into any of them there in the dark.

But Lane wasn't going to give up. She returned to her car, gave her serial number into the radio, and demanded backup.

Meanwhile, Niles attended to C.C.. Thankfully, she only seemed stunned by the blow, and was starting to moan and come round as he held her. He gathered her in his arms and carried her all the way back to the car, repeating over and over again that she was safe; that he was there. The producer was still disoriented and slightly scared, but he soon felt her relaxing in his arms.

"Niles," she moaned, burrowing her face in the crook of her neck.

"Sh, everything is alright, love, everything is alright," he shushed her, getting them both in the back of Lane's car and holding the producer in his arms. He didn't want to let her go ever again, and part of him blamed himself for what had happened.

If he had been open with her about Thomas being back she would have never fainted, and if he had been more open about him being sulking in the shadows she would have never wandered off by herself.

She wasn't okay, both mentally and physically speaking, and he had to be the one to take care of her.

He didn't know for how long he held her, but eventually an ambulance arrived. After an exhaustive examination was carried out by the paramedics, C.C. was given a number of painkillers and tranquilisers and she was then given a "clean bill of health". The blow had served to disorient her and she was in shock, but otherwise she was alright.

After a fruitless search for the kidnapper, Lane drove both Niles and C.C. back to the mansion. After they had said their farewells, Niles and Lane parted ways – the latter went back to the police station and the former took C.C. to their bed.

Despite the great deal of tranquillisers and painkillers that she had been given, she was lucid enough to ask him to stay with her. He didn't hesitate and slipped them both under the covers. She lay against his chest, as usual, and for some moments they stayed in silence, just holding each other.

"Niles?" she said softly and he looked down at him. "I love you."

Niles sighed. He really wanted to talk about why she had ran away, but right then wasn't the time. He had to comfort her. "I love you too, C-"

"Kiss me," she interrupted him, her voice faint and breathy but with an undeniable firm edge to it.

"What? I, uh..." he didn't know quite how to respond to what she had just asked.

Of course he very much wanted to kiss her. He'd wanted to kiss her for a long time now. But she had just had a very traumatic experience, and a blow to the head, and was on more than what most people would describe as a small amount of painkillers.

Was she really asking him, or was it the medication?

He knew she loved him. She'd said so. And he adored her in return. And he wasn't going to hurt her.

As long as he knew for sure...

"Are you sure that's what you want?" he gave a faint swallow, licking his lips.

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't," she replied, her voice tender, if a little stronger and more insistent. "So please, kiss me."

He gently reached up with one hand, and stroked her cheek, looking into her eyes. Her eyes were just as determined as the rest of her. The producer's mind was made up.

And if it was, then so was his.

He leaned in slowly, feeling his heart rate speed up, and their lips finally connected in a soft, loving kiss. It didn't last long but it was beautiful all the same. Their lips melded together; it was as though they were two pieces of the same puzzle...

He held her close, always keeping his hands where he knew she didn't feel bothered, and in return he felt her wrapping her arms around his middle. She felt safe in his embrace, she felt at home, and he was going to try his damned hardest to make her feel free and well again.

They rested their foreheads together for a few moments after their kiss, both of their hearts pounding in their chests. The experience had been glorious, perfect, fulfilling... but for now it had to be enough. C.C. needed the rest and she was still healing. She had only been out of the cellar for a few months! They didn't need to rush things.

"Thank you," she sighed and rested her head on his chest, as she had been doing before their kiss. "And I am sorry... I didn't mean to do that... I just... when I heard he is out there, I needed to run away. I felt unsafe; like he could take me any time he wanted, and so I ran."

He wanted to tell her what a dangerous thing she had done by leaving the house unsupervised, but he was also sure that she knew she had done the wrong thing in leaving. Scolding her for it wouldn't solve or change anything, so he kept it to himself.

She was probably feeling bad enough as it was, anyway. Not only was she still recovering, but she'd be horribly aware of the fact that she'd put other people out of their way to come and get her, and that they'd almost lost her again.

He softly stroked her hair, "I know. It was all more than a little overwhelming. But, please, next time you feel the need to run away, promise you'll take me with you."

C.C.'s mouth twitched into a smile, "You wanna run away with me, huh?"

"To the ends of the Earth," he replied, still playing with her hair. "And back again, if you asked me to."

She nuzzled her head against his chest even more, settling in, "Alright. Then if I want to go again, I'll ask you to come with me."

He chuckled and tightened his grip on her. The woman was feeling slightly better, he could tell, and that was all that he wanted – to make her feel better. She had gone through Hell these past months, and she only deserved comfort, contention and love... a lot of love. Luckily for her, he was more than willing to give her all the love he possessed.

He knew she loved him back – that had been made clear by her writing him letters and hearing his voice during her captivity – but he also suspected she wasn't quite ready to physically show that love. After having been abused to such an extent, it was completely understandable that she was wary of any type of physical shows of affection, and the fact that she allowed him to hold her and kiss her spoke volumes of how much she trusted and loved him.

He sometimes felt undeserving of that love... after all, it had been his stupid prank what had caused her to leave the hospital in a haste and consequently be kidnapped by that son of a bitch. Granted, he had devoted his life to finding her and he now wanted to spend his every living moment loving and adoring her, but the guilt was like a stain that he couldn't get rid of, no matter how hard he tried to scrub it off.

The mere thought of the day of her kidnapping made his heart ache. She had saved his life, and that was how he had repaid her...

"What's wrong?" she asked, starting him out of his guilt-filled thoughts.

"Nothing... you rest, don't worry," he tried to shush her and gently brushed her hair. He didn't want to worry her.

"Niles... you suddenly went tense – what's wrong?" she shifted in his embrace so she could look at him, her eyes filled with an emotion Niles couldn't quite get. After a few moments had gone by and when it had become obvious that he wasn't going to tell her, C.C. took her hand to his cheek and cupped it. "Niles... I spent eight months as a prisoner – I had no freedom to do as I wanted, or move, or eat or sleep... or even talk," she craned her neck forward and pecked his lips. "What I mean to say is that you can tell me – I love you, and I am here to listen to you just how you listened to me."

He let out a sigh that weighed heavily on his chest. He didn't want to burden her with his guilt, not after having been the one to basically start all of this in the first place.

He'd caused all her suffering, and now she was asking him to tell her what was bothering him? Even if he had tried to make her feel the love she deserved ever since she'd come back to them, it would never be enough.

He didn't deserve her.

But she had asked. And being open and honest with each other was the key to a successful relationship. Not to mention it would save on so many problems in the future.

He had to do it. No matter what the consequences were.

He took in a deep breath, calming himself for what was to come before he spoke.

"I...I just couldn't help but think about that day," he swallowed, his mouth far too dry, before continuing. "The day you disappeared."

It was C.C.'s turn to stiffen slightly, "Oh?"

"I kept thinking about being there, in the hospital. Waking up, and the first thing I do is prank you. And then you storm out. And then you go missing for eight months," his eyes were beginning to well up. "And if I hadn't been so cruel, and dead-set on going through with what I thought was just a joke, then none of this would've happened. I got a minute or two of self-satisfaction for a lousy prank, and you..."

He shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks, "I don't know how you can even stand to look at me. After what I caused."

It surprised him just how quickly C.C. moved after he spoke – moments ago she had been nestled in his embrace, and now she had climbed on top of him and was stretched out across his body, holding him tight and dropping kisses on his cheek. Considering her wariness of being touched, Niles couldn't help but be touched by the effort she was doing to be in this position; he then did what he felt was correct – he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested them on the small of her back.

"Niles," she said softly, taking one of her hands to his head and threading it through his hair. "I'll start by saying that I love you," she kissed his cheek again – it tasted salty thanks to his tears. "And what happened wasn't your fault."

His body trembled with sobs, and shook his head no. "C.C., please, I was-"

"Niles, no," she cut him off, her voice having a hard edge to it. "I know my kidnapper better than you do and I know for a fact that this was not your fault! You see, he had been stalking me for months... and he had been planning my kidnapping for months," the producer made a short pause to tighten her grip on Niles and to burrow her face in the crook of his neck. "He knew my movements and where I went... so it was only a matter of time. He saw a window of opportunity when I left the hospital that day, but even if you hadn't done that prank he would have taken me. I am ashamed to admit that, for a while, I did blame you for what had happened, but then I understood that he was planning to take me for quite some time. Pranks were our _mode de vie_ – I can't blame you for acting as we usually did..."

She was forgiving him...and doing it so easily...

Well, she said she did blame him at first, but then she'd clearly come to some realisation. Maybe a realisation that he hadn't had – he wondered if he ever would, either.

She'd told him what happened wasn't his fault, and yet he still felt it was. Probably just like he told her what happened to her wasn't her fault, and she would probably still feel the same way. Were they just both blameless, in their respective areas? Two people forced into a situation that neither of them could control, but one of which both wanted so desperately to come out?

They were both nearly out, too. The light in the end of the tunnel was getting brighter. They weren't quite there yet, but he knew in his heart that they would be soon. They were both here, safe, and they had each other. They were working things out, slowly and surely. And the love between them grew deeper every day.

So maybe, not being quite so harsh on himself wasn't such a far-fetched idea. If she could forgive him, then maybe he owed it to her to try and forgive himself, too.

He rested his cheek against the top of her head, "I love you, so very much."

"And I love you, too," she whispered back. She felt so safe with him... so at ease. It was frustrating, really – she wanted to show him his love, to physically demonstrate how much she needed and wanted him in her life, but her fears were stopping her.

Her trauma was stopping her.

But maybe this was just like what she had been doing ever since she had escaped; forcing herself to take baby steps.

She had spoken a lot about this with Bort. Her therapist told her that, even though she didn't need to force herself to do something she didn't want to, there was nothing wrong with trying new things. She had also told her that due to the trauma, she might find herself in the situation of wanting to do something but inexplicably fearing doing so at the same time.

Going back to some degree of normality was going to take a long, long time, but maybe she felt ready to try something new.

Something she really wanted.

Not only to physically show Niles how much she loved him, but to finally experience sex not as a forced act, but as an expression of love. She tentatively started kissing him again, but this time more forcefully; her fingers made their way to his shirt and began to play with his buttons.

"C.C.?" Niles asked, a hint of terror in his voice. "What are-"

"Don't... don't ask..." she pleaded. "I... I am trying... taking baby steps... because I want this. And if I am not okay... I promise to tell you."

Niles looked at her for a moment. Was she really ready? She seemed to think so, but did that mean that she truly was? It hadn't been so long after...any of the events.

Was he the right person to decide if she was ready? No, it was her body, and she called the shots over what they did. He just didn't want her to rush into anything that she wasn't really and truly ready for.

She seemed to want to try and be ready. And her fingertips were brushing over the skin of his chest as the buttons on his shirt loosened. And he'd be lying through his teeth if he said it didn't feel good...

And she promised to tell him if something was wrong. They'd stop if anything was wrong. He knew that. Her comfort – her pleasure – would come first. It would always come first. And right now, if that was what she wanted, then he'd happily oblige until she said otherwise.

He looked her directly in the eyes, blue meeting blue, and he stroked his fingers down her cheek, "Alright."

She began to kiss him again, and he reciprocated, deepening the kiss just enough to carefully move things forward. He was going to take it as slowly as possible, so that she'd have more time to change her mind if she so chose. He kept his hands on his sides, not daring to place them anywhere without her express command. She was doing just great on top of him, by the look of things, so that was always a good sign.

His shirt was soon completely opened and C.C. was grating her Nails against his chest. It felt heavenly and he longed to pull her down for a kiss or thread her fingers through her hair, but that was still out of bounds.

"You can use your hands if you want to," she panted in between kisses and gently guided his hands to her hips. He slipped them under her shirt and carefully caressed her sides. C.C. moaned and kissed him harder, her hands threading through his sandy locks. "Take it off for me."

And he did. He carefully took her shirt off and his soon followed. As she had already been in her pyjamas she hadn't been wearing a bra, so her breasts were visible. He had never seen such beautiful breasts before, and although he longed to touch them, he kept his hands on her sides.

C.C. lied down slowly, pressing their torsos together. He moaned at then feeling of her naked skin against his.

"Touch me," she whispered, and began kissing him again.

Niles gently lowered his hands until they reached the hem of her pyjama pants. He slipped them inside it and began gently fondling her bottom.

She kept kissing him and nipping at his skin, but then...

Then a flashback burst inside her mind.

She was in Thomas' room, being pinned down to the mattress and he was...

"Stop!"

Niles pulled his hands away, taking them out of reach so that he wasn't touching her anymore.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

C.C. sat up, kneeling on the mattress and catching her breath. She shook her head, not looking at him, as though she were ashamed of something. Most likely herself, if their recent conversations had given him any insight whatsoever.

"No, don't be...it wasn't your fault," she said. "None of this is your fault..."

Niles pulled himself upright, wanting to take her hand, or stroke her arm comfortingly, but not daring in case whatever she'd been thinking about was still lingering in her mind.

"Are you alright?" he asked instead, knowing full well what the real answer was but asking anyway.

"I don't know," she eventually replied, staring hard at the mattress.

He chanced taking her hand, feeling relieved when she didn't flinch, or pull away, and he waited until she looked up at him before he began speaking.

"It's alright to not be completely alright, you know. You said it yourself; baby steps," he told her gently. "And you did exactly what you said you would do. You told me when you stopped feeling comfortable, and we stopped. You have control over what happens, and you exercised that control."

"You're not angry that I said "stop"?" she asked, more than a slight hint of fear in her tone.

Niles wanted to frown, thinking about how the monster had taken all right to say "stop" or "no" or anything of that nature to her. But he knew it could be mistaken for something else right then, so he didn't. Instead, he simply smiled gently.

"Of course I'm not angry," he said. "I'm proud of you. I know coming this far can't have been easy for you, but you tried. And if things are different next time, then all the better for us. If not, it doesn't matter. I just want you to be happy."

C.C. tried to smile – she was touched by his understanding, but at the same time she couldn't help but be disappointed in herself. She'd wanted to do this with him, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own. Bort had told her this was normal and that, hopefully, as time went past and she got better she'd be able to take control of her own body once again.

She couldn't help the frown when that thought surfaced in her mind.

"What's wrong?" Niles asked, carefully wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Nothing..." she huffed in annoyance, snuggling closer to him. "It's just frustrating."

Niles sighed. Although the fact that she had remembered part of her assault hadn't been good, her opening up about what she was feeling was one step forward on her road to recovery.

"What is frustrating?" he asked, pulling them both down and lying on the pillows.

"The fact that I can't even control my body! The fact that even here I am still a prisoner..." C.C. huffed again. "The first time he took me to his bed he tied me down so I wouldn't fight back, and I still feel that way... tied up..."

Niles screwed up his face a little as he thought. He had never, and would never, experience what she had gone through. He didn't fully know what to suggest to make her feel , he knew that her getting fully better was a matter of patience, time, care, and understanding. But it was going to need some cooperation from other things, too. Like getting back into a normal routine, the normalisation of things that had been denied to her before, and remembering how to enjoy things that once had made her smile.

The things that made her feel free, and that had been taken from her by a monster.

Maybe that was a good place to start. Get her to remember something that made her feel free when she was doing it. Something that she enjoyed so much and concentrated so hard on that it made her forget about the rest of the world.

But what could that be? It was far too soon for her to return to her work, even though he'd never seen anyone put so much effort into anything as he saw her put into producing shows. The knitting? No, he didn't think sharp objects were such a good idea just yet...

Well, maybe if he asked, something would surface in her mind.

"Maybe we should start trying to find a way for you to feel a little less tied up," he suggested. "Can you think of anything that you really like doing, that you focus all your attention on when you're doing it?"

Silence stretched as she thought, but nothing came to her mind.

The few things she had adored with a passion – such as producing shows, knitting, reading or seeing plays – weren't really what she needed right then, but she couldn't really come up with a-

And it was as though a lightbulb had ignited inside her head!

During her captivity there had been another pastime that took her mind out of the horror she was living. It was just convenient that Lane had given her back her guitar a few weeks ago.

"Where are you going?" Niles asked when C.C. leapt out of bed and scrambled for her discarded pyjama top.

"Just give me a moment," she said and went out of the bedroom while putting her shirt back on.

Niles' brown furrowed. What did she have in mind? Clearly she'd had an idea, but he didn't-

Niles' trailed off as the sweet sound of a guitar came from C.C.'s old room. And soon, Niles heard none other than C.C.'s sweet voice filling the air with a melody he had never heard before.

 _"A dream needs believing,_

 _To taste like the real thing,_

 _Like some stranger you recognize._

 _So pure, so pure, so electric,_

 _So sure, so sure, so connected._

 _To those little believers inside._

 _May we all be so lucky._

 _But dreams are elusive,_

 _The kind we've gotten used to._

 _Is nothing I can feel,_

 _Nothing I can hold,_

 _Nothing I can have,_

 _Nothing that I know._

 _Dreams come and they go._

 _But hold them and keep them,_

 _And know that you need them._

 _When your breaking point's all that you have;_

 _A dream is a soft place to land._

 _May we all be so lucky."_

Her voice floated in the air magnificently. It made him want to go to the door, to join in, and to just be around her as she fell into something which obviously made her happy.

But he also didn't want to ruin the moment for her. He'd never heard her play the guitar before, and it made him consider two possibilities; either she'd known before and had chosen to keep it to herself, or she had learned in her captivity and might not want to talk about why she had taken it up.

So instead, he leaned back against the headboard, his back feeling cold against the wood, and waited for her to either finish playing and come back, or for her to bring the guitar in to him.

Whichever she felt most comfortable with.

He was just enjoying hearing her play.

The song was both beautiful and sad; it had a nostalgic air to it, and he couldn't help but wonder if she had come up with it during her incarceration or if it was a song she had heard somewhere else. He doubted it was the latter... the lyrics basically were describing what she had done to survive being locked in the cellar – she had dreamt. Dreamt about his voice, about his cheesecake, about all the things she wanted to do when she got back...

Suddenly the music stopped, and he heard her scuttling back to the room, guitar in hand.

He smiled at her and patted the space next to him, which C.C. readily took.

"I didn't know you played," he said quietly.

"I learnt in the cellar," she said airily as she settled the guitar on her lap. "He gave me a book about learning how to play the guitar and so I asked for a guitar and... well... practiced until I learnt how to play properly."

Niles sighed. So he had been right. She had learnt while she had been kidnapped. In a sense it was admirable that she had mastered an instrument while living such torment.

His thoughts were interrupted by her beginning another song.

 _"I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes._

 _They've seen things that you never quite say, but I hear._

 _Come out of hiding, I'm right here beside you,_

 _And I'll stay there as long as you let me._

Because you matter to me,

Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody.

You matter to me,

I promise you do, you, you matter too.

I promise you do, you see?

You matter to me..."

And his heart, which had been broken for her suffering so many times recently, was melting. She didn't take her eyes off him as she continued her song. Singing to him. It was like she was singing for him, and expressing everything she felt about him in the words.

Had she thought this up in her confinement? Had she thought of him as she'd perfected each part of the melody, each word of the lyrics?

 _"It's addictive the minute you let yourself think,_

 _'The things that I say just might matter to someone';_

 _All of this time, I've been keeping my mind on the running away,_

 _And for the first time, I think I'd consider the stay..."_

She bent her head back to the instrument, engrossed in her music. Her long fingers picked out each string so delicately. She'd spent so long perfecting each movement, it was hard to not be touched by it.

She'd found a little escape. In thinking of him and the letters, and in her music, she'd kept herself. She might have been suffering beyond all comprehension and not able to escape the Hell that she was forced into, but she could have a momentary escape.

That escape didn't have to be temporary anymore. All she had to do was realise that...

She was safe – he'd keep her safe. Come rain or come shine he'd keep her safe and happy...

 _"Because you matter to me._

 _Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody,_

 _You matter to me;_

 _I promise you do, you, you matter too_

 _I promise you do, you see?_

 _You matter to me."_

She kept singing, her eyes looking into his once again. It was obvious that she had made this song for him... that she had taken the time to create a sweet melody in a place where nothing but despair existed. She had created beauty in the midst of horror; she had withstood her captor's attempts to break her down, and now she was slowly getting back to her feet.

It took a strong woman to endure what she had endured, and by retreating to her rich inner world she had not only survived but she had also created. She had found little ways to escape and experience beauty and peace, and for that she deserved nothing less than the entire world.

He observed her fingers playing the solo section, and then, instead of singing the next verse, she spoke.

"Dear Niles,

I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight. They don't pull away, they don't look at your face and they don't even try to kiss you; all they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight without an ounce of selfishness to it. I hope you become addicted, I hope you become addicted to saying things and having them matter to someone."

He didn't remember reading a letter like that one. It must have been her own private thought that she'd left purely for the song.

He wanted to reach forward and pull her into an embrace at that moment. To be the person who held her for twenty minutes straight – no pulling away, not even to look her in the eyes or to try and kiss her.

That was what he wanted, more than anything else in the world. To be the one who she could hold onto, and not have to let go, because all they wanted to do was hold each other. And they could tell each other anything they wanted to without any worries whatsoever, because what they both had to say mattered to the other.

The song wasn't over, quite, and he continued to listen. That was part of it all mattering, wasn't it? That they listened to everything that the other had to say, and waited for the other to finish, before trying to say anything else.

 _"And you matter to me,_

 _Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody,_

 _You matter to me;_

 _I promise you do,_

 _You matter too,_

 _I promise you do, you see,_

 _You matter to me..."_

She played a few more chords before the instrument became silent once again, and the two of them just gazed at each other for a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity. His eyes and hers were windows to their souls, and they were wide open for the other to see everything.

Hers were like a stormy sea – filled with confusion, pain, anger and sorrow... but he could also detect a hidden softness that only he was allowed to see.

His were filled with pain, too, but they irradiated love and comfort. He was her rock, her lifeline... and she could only thank him for that.

"Come here," he said as he opened his arms.

C.C. lowered her guitar onto the mattress and burrowed in his embrace, relishing in the feelings of safety and warmth that were coursing her tired body. Just like her song said, he only held her; there was no need for words or any other form of physical affection... he only held her and she held him.

"You matter to me too," he eventually spoke up. "You are my everything."

C.C. tightened her grip. "And you are mine."

And so, that's how they fell asleep only minutes later – holding each other in a tight embrace.

* * *

 **AN: And here you go! We hope the chapter is of your liking. The two songs we included here were written by Sarah Bareilles for the musical "Waitress". They are really beautiful and we recommend you to listen to them! The titles (in order) are: "Soft Place To Land" and "You Matter To Me".**

 **We thank you for your reviews and hope you let us know what you think of this new chapter!**

 **H &L**


	14. Chapter 14

**_Chapter 13_**

 ** _Taking Another Step_**

Days, weeks and months went past and spring turned into summer, but there was still no sign of Thomas Jones.

To say that this didn't bother the police, C.C., Niles and her loved ones would be a terrible lie, but the police was doing everything in their power to catch the sadistic monster.

However, the family had taken a few extra measures to protect the blonde from any other unwanted encounters that could put her freedom or her life at risk; she never left the house unaccompanied, there were police officers patrolling the area and she didn't open the door to strangers.

It was frustrating because it was almost like being a child again, but it was for the better. She could scarcely tolerate being left alone for long, so it was no wonder that the family took extra precautions. C.C. still struggled to express her basic needs or fight her compulsions, but she was slowly getting better. However, the fear of Thomas taking her again and the trauma from her las incursion to the street had prevented C.C. from leaving the house since then.

And that was precisely why Niles and C.C. were getting ready to head out. Bort had told C.C. she needed to start facing her fears and to try and go out for short periods of time, so in order to comply with her therapist's orders, Niles was taking C.C. out for lunch.

He helped her into a light jacket, and brushed the shoulders down lightly. He hadn't really felt so much like a butler over the course of the last few months, because nearly everything in the house had stopped for C.C.. It was a nice change of pace, just to do something small which felt ordinary.

And going out for lunch with the woman he loved was both ordinary and extraordinary in equal measure, but both felt good.

They were also going over the list of things they would do to ensure C.C.'s safety during their time outside.

"And if you see...him-"

"I'll tell you immediately," C.C. finished his sentence. She knew what she would do. That is, if being frozen to the spot in fear didn't tell Niles all he needed to know.

"Good," he gave a small, satisfied smile. Of course, he was going to make sure that if the monster was sighted, he got C.C. out of there before anything happened. But there was that part of him, still wanting the vile creature's blood, that said the moment he was seen, he was the prime target for a beating.

He just had to hope they didn't run into him today.

He looked them both up and down; jackets on them both, purse over her shoulder, wallet stored in his pocket. They were just about ready to go in his mind, but he had to ask C.C. if she was ready first.

He brushed his fingers lightly down her arms, "You all set to go, love?"

C.C. looked at herself on the mirror that hung just over the side table. She looked relatively good in her brand new Chanel suit. Although she had earned some much needed pounds, her frame was still incredibly thin and, as a consequence, most of her old clothes were too big for her. Fran had offered to go and buy her new clothes, and after C.C. had begrudgingly agreed (let's just say she was still wary of the former nanny's sense of fashion) Fran had taken care of providing her with a new wardrobe.

C.C. hadn't gone with her for she was still not confident enough to go out of the house, but today she was going to try and tackle that fear.

"I was born ready," she replied with forced nonchalance. They knew she was not exactly ready, but she was willing to try.

"Very well," Niles said, lacing their arms together and guiding her towards the garage. Seeing as Thomas could be around the area, they had agreed to go by car to the restaurant. C.C. had asked to be taken to Times Square.

He helped her into the passenger's seat and let her buckle her belt while he edged round the car and climbed onto the driver's seat. He did up his own belt, and turned the key in the ignition, giving her an encouraging smile as he looked over to the passenger's side.

C.C. smiled wanly back. He knew that this was probably the hardest thing she'd had to do since her escape, but he hoped she was encouraged by the fact that she wasn't alone. She had him, and he wasn't going away.

The streets and avenues as they made their way into the heart of the city were their usual combination of filled with traffic and almost frustratingly slow. Every few feet or so, the car would have to stop again as the traffic moved on, the yelling and cursing of other drivers muffled by the body and windows of the car.

Luckily they still had some time to get to lunch. And the yelling wasn't too nearby.

Not that C.C. appeared too comfortable, anyway. She'd shrunk in her seat, and Niles' immediate, terrified, thought was that Thomas was in the car next to their own. But it wasn't, the driver of the car next to theirs actually appeared to be a middle-aged woman with large glasses from what he could see, and he doubted very much that her captor was that good a master of disguise.

She was probably just feeling quite exposed anyway, being surrounded by so many people in a situation where she couldn't move. But she was safe in the car, and the traffic would clear, and they'd be moving again soon enough.

And even if it had been Thomas, all he could do was watch as they drove away. Or perhaps drove over him, if the man was deranged enough to get out of a car in the middle of New York traffic. He'd deserve it.

"We are almost there, love," he told her as they made a turn to the left. They were on 42nd street, and the restaurant was only two blocks away – not a long way and it would give C.C. the chance to walk through the city.

He heard her take a deep breath when he finally parked the car and turned the engine off. He supposed she was gearing herself up for, in a sense, going back to the real world. Something inside him ached when he saw just how affected she was by a mere day out, but this was part of her recovery and they both knew that it had to be done.

"Ready?" he asked, caressing her thigh. "We can go back if you want."

"No... no... It's fine," she unbuckled her belt and hastily opened the door. "Let's go."

Once both of them had gotten off the car and Niles had locked it, they laced their arms together and took off for the restaurant. He could tell she was tense, but the moment she saw the different theatres and plays being shown around her, he observed with amusement (and relief) how she slowly began to smile.

She was... excited, maybe? It had been almost a year since she had stepped a foot anywhere near Broadway. So he allowed her to just drag him around as she rediscovered the area she had once known like the back of her hand.

"Look, Niles!" C.C. exclaimed, pointing at a banner. "They are showing "The King And-"

"Is that Miss Babcock?" a third voice interrupted them and C.C. almost jumped. "Oh my God! It's her!"

Suddenly, a sea of paparazzi were surrounding them, and Niles observed with no little horror how C.C.'s breathing became ragged as the journalists fired their questions at her.

 _"Miss Babcock, is it true that you were held inside an underground cellar?"_

 _"Miss Babcock, were you assaulted?"_

 _"Miss Babcock, how do you feel about your kidnapper having escaped?"_

C.C. clearly didn't know what to do or say. She hadn't been surrounded by so many people since she'd been in the hospital, being checked over by doctors. But at least then it had only been one doctor asking her the questions...

"I...uh..." she was looking almost disorientated, the number of people around them growing like a tidal wave that was about to crash down onto her, and their questions buzzed in her brain.

They buzzed louder, and louder, until she could hardly stand it.

She could hardly feel Niles' arm around her waist – she barely saw it (overcome by the presence of so many others) when he pulled her back to step in front of her, and shield her from the wall of journalists.

"I demand that you all stop this, this instant!" he yelled at them. "Leave her alone, you absolute vultures! Find your scraps elsewhere!"

The reporters simply turned on him instead.

 _"Mr Brightmore, are you taking it upon yourself to be Miss Babcock's protector now? A sort of knight in shining armour?"_

"No comment," Niles replied in the same inflection that one would use to tell another person to shut up. He then turned away. "And that's the last you'll get out of either of us; good day, ladies and gentlemen."

He didn't stay to listen to the avalanche of questions that the shameless paparazzi were firing at them. Instead, he turned on his heels and wrapped an arm around a shaking C.C. and swiftly took off in the direction of the restaurant. He didn't really know if C.C. still wanted to eat out, but he needed to get her away from those blood-sucking leeches and into an enclosed, more peaceful space.

Once things had calmed down a bit they'd decide what they were going to do.

C.C. was trembling, and her breathing was ragged and fast; being in the spotlight was clearly overwhelming her, and if they didn0t get out of there fast, she'd probably drift into a full-blown flashback or have a panic attack. Luckily for them, the restaurant was now only a block away, and even though the reporters were hot on their heels it wouldn't be long until they had gotten rid of them.

They kept shouting questions at them as they went, and C.C. couldn't help but be affected by them. She couldn't ignore them like Niles was doing, and it was showing her just how many details of her case had somehow been leaked to the press. Details like her being starved, and beaten, and being held inside an underground cellar were among the most common questions, but the moment one reporter asked _"Miss Babcock, is it true that you were repeatedly violated during your captivity?"_ , C.C.'s knees gave out beneath her and she fell face down to the floor, giving a loud sob.

"Please… just shut up!" the blonde screamed, hiding her face in her hands. She was on the verge of tears, and being so exposed only worsened her distress.

She simply couldn't understand how those reporters were so merciless! They could see she was hurting, and they were doing so for the sake of a stupid story. Niles couldn't understand their lack of humanity, either. How could they look at another person suffering and only see the paycheque they'd get at the end of telling everyone else about it? It wasn't right!

So, seeing as C.C. didn't seem to be moving just for the moment, he did the only thing he could think: he stepped between her and the sea of journalists, his arms spread wide as if to shield her.

Not that he could entirely, but he'd try his damned hardest. If it came down to it, he'd fight every single one of them off by himself.

"I said, that is all you are getting from us!" he shouted. "Have you no shame? No sense of decency?! You are hounding another human being who does not want you to talk to her. You are violating her right to privacy. You are behaving like interloping gossips purely for a good story! Or what you consider a good story. We have said all we will in the matter, so you following us is of no use. Now, please leave us be, before I decide to call the police!"

There was a silence after he'd spoken. But the journalists didn't move.

Then one lone voice.

 _"Mr Brightmore, what exactly is your relationship to Miss Babcock?"_

Niles rolled his eyes, "Oh, Jesus Christ..."

He turned, helped C.C. back onto her feet as fast as he could, and hurried away before the reporters could stop them. He knew almost certain that C.C. wouldn't want to eat now, but the restaurant would provide an ample place for them to rest and gather their thoughts before going back to the car.

It so happened that the restaurant's general manager had been observing the commotion from the restaurant, and she kindly offered the couple to keep an eye on C.C. while Niles walked the few blocks that separated them from their car and bring it closer to C.C.. He needn't ask if she wanted to eat – the woman kept repeating that she wanted to go home as soon as possible.

Both Niles and the general manager reassured her, and she was given a cup of tea and some cookies to calm her nerves while she waited for Niles to come back with the car – not that she would have admitted it, but she kind of felt like a vulnerable child right then. Just before Niles left, however, he gave an express order not to let anyone but himself take C.C. while he was gone. After all, Thomas was still out there so they'd better be safe than worry.

He'd be lying through his teeth if he said that being away from C.C. – no matter however short that time was – wasn't putting him on edge, but eventually the producer was safely sat in the passenger's seat while Niles drove them back to the mansion.

"I am sorry, love," Niles said, reaching out for her hand. He interwove their fingers, and the producer relaxed ever so slightly. "I didn't want our day to be ruined."

C.C. shook her head, still not looking at him – as a matter of fact, her gaze had drifted to the window, and her eyes were staring off into the road ahead of them. "It wasn't your fault… there will be another opportunity."

Niles sighed. He supposed that even though this attempt at having a proper day out had flopped, it was good that she wanted to try again, eventually. He wouldn't pressure her, as usual, and they'd only venture into the streets when she felt ready to try again.

"Alright… just know that I love you," he said, taking their entwined hands to his lips and dropping a kiss on the back of her hand.

"I love you too."

C.C. said, and they drifted into a tranquil silence. Niles knew she needed some quiet after their encounter with the paparazzi, and he was more than happy to oblige. Once they got home, C.C. and Niles parted ways – while Niles looked for a blanket for C.C., the latter snuggled on the sofa.

"Want me to make us a homemade lunch?" Niles spoke, stepping back into the living room while carrying a fluffy, pink blanket in his arms. "I could prepare mushroom risotto!"

She gave a small, weak smile in reply, "Mushroom risotto...sounds kind of nice, actually."

The butler approached the sofa, and seated himself carefully next to her, unfolding the blanket and preparing to tuck her in and make her comfortable.

"Then that is what I shall do," he smiled gently back at her.

He tucked her in as securely as possible, allowing her to put the blanket up past her chest and tucking it under her back. He was, however, allowed to remove her shoes and fold the blanket under her legs. When she seemed all settled in, with cushions piled behind her, the television quietly on to provide a little bit of noise, he tensed, preparing to stand up if need be.

"There we are," he said brightly. "All tucked in. Are you hungry now? It will take a little while for the risotto to cook. I could bring you something in the meantime, if you want me to?"

C.C. was thoughtful for a few seconds. He waited, giving her all the time she needed to make her decision. It had probably been a long time since someone had made her an offer of snacks whilst a main meal was prepared. It might have been a little overwhelming.

Then she suddenly spoke, "Would it be alright...if I came in the kitchen with you? A-and helped, I mean."

This took Niles by surprise, but he'd lying if he said it was an unpleasant one. He knew that C.C. had been forced to cook during her captivity, but he also remembered the letter where she'd expressed her desire to cook with him.

The prospect of working in a delicious meal together was uplifting, and Niles couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Not at all, love," he said, helping her up and folding the blanket before neatly laying it on the sofa. "Just let me get you an apron."

The producer smiled. Learning how to cook had been a relatively good consequence of her kidnapping, but this was probably going to be the first time she actually enjoyed doing so – no one was forcing her to prepare her meal, and having that freedom tasted so very sweet...

They marched into the kitchen together, and after both she and Niles had washed their hands and put on an apron, they diligently began preparing the risotto.

"Okay, so first we need to-"

"You heat the oil while I soak the dried mushrooms," she interrupted him, handing him a shallow frying pan before getting a bowl for herself. "Don't forget to heat the oil over a medium flame!"

Niles could only observe in awe how she expertly moved through the kitchen, adding her personal touch to the recipe she clearly knew by heart now. He also noticed she had begun preparing homemade bread and some orange juice, which she poured inside two glasses – one for her and one for him.

She had talent... and ironically enough, it was he who could barely keep up with her.

She worked at the kind of pace he'd expect from a professional kitchen. He'd seen, in some greater houses back in Britain when he'd been studying his profession, how quickly the chefs moved from item to item, and got everything ready precisely the way it was supposed to be with nothing out of place.

There was a faint twitch inside him, as he realised that this must have been how hard she'd have to work in her captivity.

She'd even set the table already. Correctly, with the knives and the forks and the spoons all in their correct positions.

She'd been trained, and it was making his skin crawl.

But he couldn't show it. Not from the way she looked up at him proudly from her work; the bread and the orange juice were all ready as well, the glasses and the plate of slices set out in the middle, between the two places that were only missing the people who were to sit there and the food.

She actually seemed happy about it. And she'd asked that she be allowed to help, not just gotten up and did it, as though it were a compulsion. Maybe something which had been a compulsion could become just something she liked to do, and asking him instead of just getting up and going with him was her trying to assert some free will...

"Is that rice ready?" she asked, starting him out of his contemplative state. He looked down at the frying pan – the rice seemed fine to him, but he wasn't really paying attention. C.C. noticed too, for she rolled her eyes as she scooped up a spoonful of rice from the pan and tasted it. Immediately she wrinkled her nose and forced herself to swallow it down so she could speak.

"That's undercooked – add a splash of water," C.C. seemed to have a second thought, and she carefully took the pan from him. "I'll finish this, you go and look for the plates."

Although under any other circumstances he wouldn't have taken any criticism of his food, he knew better than to argue with Babcock; not only because, as he had vowed to himself, she called the shots, but also because he knew she had more dexterity than he did in preparing risotto.

"Sir, yes sir," Niles smirked, saluting the woman. Maybe she was so at ease in the kitchen because she had control over her surroundings and over what she was doing, two things that had been foreign for her during the past months.

Granted, it was disturbing seeing just how well-trained she was, but if she enjoyed cooking, then who was he to take that pleasure away from her?

He retrieved two plates from the cupboard and set them on the kitchen counter. C.C. only needed to reach out for them once the risotto was ready to be served.

"Niles, hand me the butter," C.C. said, taking the pan off the heat. "I just have to scatter it over the cheese and the parsley. Afterwards, it's just a matter of letting it rest for a few minutes so that the rice can take up any excess liquid as it cools a bit."

It was still odd, listening to her talking about this like it was the most normal thing in the world.

But he did as he was told. The butter was handed over, and C.C. began to mix it with the other ingredients. When she was done, she gave it back to him so that she wouldn't have to leave the pan, and he placed it back in the fridge.

They had been working, he came to the realisation, almost completely in-sync. They'd been able to swap roles, and perform tasks together, and get everything set up for their lunch almost entirely seamlessly. Of course, there was that whole moment with the rice, but that had been easily fixed.

She had been able to tell when there was something wrong, which he'd missed.

And, soon enough, she had served two plates of risotto, carrying them to the table and settling his down before placing her own in front of her seat.

He had to bite the inside of his lip to prevent himself from frowning too much. He supposed that was just a little habit that would still be hard for her to break – not having to serve other peoples' meals before her own in an environment like this one. He could have just as easily taken his own plate and they could have sat down at the same time.

"Well, are you coming or not?" she asked, gesturing towards the table.

"Oh... sure!" he exclaimed, realising he had been staring at her for far too long. He only hoped that she hadn't noticed his distress about the residual (and still untameable) compulsions from her captivity.

He noticed she remained standing until he had sat down, and this time he truly couldn't hide just how upsetting it was. He just wanted to hold her until she didn't feel these compulsions, but he knew it was a matter of time...

Only time would help her heal.

"Is there anything wrong?" she asked, not touching her meal.

"No, I only felt tha-"

The shrilling sound of the bell interrupted their incipient conversation, and both C.C. and Niles exchanged a confused look.

"Were you expecting someone?" she asked, rising to her feet alongside Niles.

"No... Were you?"

The blonde shook her head. Frowning, the couple made their way to the front door, although C.C. stayed a few steps behind Niles. All of their uneasiness, however, faded away when the door opened, revealing Stewart and B.B. Babcock.

Instead, they both let out sighs of relief.

"Hey there, Niles! Hi, Kitten!" Stewart beamed openly at them both as the two blondes stepped aside to allow the older couple in.

"Hi, Daddy," C.C. smiled back. "Hello, Mother."

"Hello, dear," B.B. went straight to her daughter after very quickly greeting – more like simply acknowledging – Niles. "How are you feeling today?"

C.C. almost considered telling them then and there what had happened out on the streets of New York, but she held back. Maybe it was the fact that they were all stood by the front door still. Or maybe a part of her was still afraid and she wanted Niles to do it.

She didn't fully know, but there was only one way to test it entirely.

"Fine, right now," she replied evenly, looking over at the butler, who was busy exchanging pleasantries with her father.

She was glad they got along.

"We were just about to have some lunch," Niles piped up, releasing the grip he had on Stewart's hand from their handshake and gestured towards the living room. "Please, come on in and get comfortable. I'll just shut the door and go put the risotto in the oven so it stays warm."

"We made more than enough for you, too," C.C. piped up, wrapping an arm around Niles waist. "If you want, of course."

B.B. and Stewart exchanged a look with Niles; they knew about C.C.'s compulsion when it came to cooking and cleaning. The butler made a quelling gesture with his hand, making it clear to the two older Babcocks that she was alright. So for the sake of keeping C.C. relaxed, both Stewart and B.B. smiled as they stepped into the mansion. Niles received both of their coats and hung them in the closet whilst C.C. and her parents moved to the kitchen.

"Wait!" C.C. exclaimed, coming to an abrupt halt. "There is no space for all of us in the kitchen. You settle on the sofa while I-"

"No, Kitten," Stewart cut her off, realising what C.C. had intended to do. He wouldn't allow his child to serve him under any circumstances, especially after what she had gone through. "You and your mother go sit down while Niles and I take care of the food."

"Daddy, you don't need to-"

"I insist," Stewart interrupted her again.

"Listen to your father, sweetheart," B.B. said, enfolding the younger woman's shoulder in a hug and veered them towards the sofa, where the pink blanket still lay. B.B.'s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. When C.C. had been a child, she had bought one pink blanket just like that one, only it had been embroidered in gold. She remembered she'd wrap her baby girl in that beautiful blanket, and she'd cradle her in her arms while sitting on her antique rocking chair.

She missed those days. They'd been some of the last they'd spend so close, up until all of this had happened. C.C. had become very independent very quickly – probably her parents' fault in no small part – and time like that became infrequent.

B.B. was sorry that all of this had had to happen in order for them to potentially get those times back, though. If she'd known it would come to this, she'd have tried harder. Tried harder to be a good mother, who was there for her daughter, and not some figure that the children saw before they were put to bed and she went out to some gala dinner or party, or wherever she happened to be going that evening.

She seated them both on the sofa, and picked up a corner of the blanket, smiling softly.

"I remember, you used to have a blanket like this one," she commented aloud. "I'd wrap you in it, so snug and secure, and it was like I'd never let you go..."

She could feel her eyes welling up. She shouldn't have let go. Too much had happened when she did. But she couldn't let her daughter see. Not now. Not when she needed her family.

C.C., however, detected the overwhelming mix of emotions straining her mother's otherwise toneless voice. It had been decades since her mother had last shown even the tiniest bit of sorrow or sadness to her, and now those two things were the only emotions the older woman could feel.

And so, C.C. did what had once been unthinkable – she edged closer to her mother and snuggled against her. The producer felt B.B.'s breath catching in her throat and her body stiffening, but it was only for a moment.

"Oh, my baby," B.B. whimpered, gathering her in her arms before reaching out for the pink blanket. "My little Kitten..."

B.B. covered her with the blanket, and C.C. lay against B.B.'s side, her head resting in the crook of her neck. It was so strange... holding C.C. that way. It had been so many years since she had last been in such proximity to her youngest child, that it was a foreign but very pleasant experience.

Considering all the horrors she had experienced, her daughter deserved and needed to be held by her mother – she needed to be loved by her mother. For better or for worse, she was her mother. And mothers are supposed to love their babies with all of their heart.

And she did love her... more than words could say.

"It's alright... Mum," C.C. said, tightening her grip on her mother when the latter spilled a few tears – C.C. had last called her mum when she was 3.

And the tears only continued to come. B.B. couldn't hold them back any longer. She'd spent so long – far too long – trying not to put her emotions out for the world to see, and it was both obviously of no use and possibly one of the worst mistakes she'd ever made.

It had almost cost her daughter. It wasn't worth it.

C.C., meanwhile, was still trying to calm her mother, but her own voice was thick with tears too, "It's okay. I'm right here. I'm not...I'm not..."

That was the one saving grace about all of it. C.C. might have suffered in the worst way possible, but she was still alive. And B.B. was more and overjoyed and grateful for that. She had her daughter, still, and she had a second chance to try and put things right.

But for now, all they could do was hold each other and weep.

If they'd looked up, they would have noticed the baffled looks on the faces of Stewart and Niles, who had entered the room carrying trays.

The two men exchanged a look of confusion.

"What on Earth...?" Stewart said, trailing off as both he and Niles stared at the... unusually _emotional_ scene happening before them. He could count the times he had seen B.B. cry with the fingers of one hand, but both her and their daughter crying together was completely unheard of! Both women were known to seldom show their emotions to each other, but it was clear that something had changed.

Stewart glanced at Niles, who looked just as confused as he was. Moments ago everything had been fine! How could it be that C.C. and B.B. had somehow started weeping in the short time that both men had been gone? Why were they crying?

"Should we... should we do something?" Niles quietly asked Stewart. "Maybe go to them?"

Under different circumstances, Niles would have gone to C.C. and held her until she had calmed down, but seeing as B.B. was there too, he didn't quite know what to do. He knew how to handle C.C., and he trusted that Stewart knew how to deal with B.B..

Stewart looked between him and the two women on sofa before heaving a sigh. Time to intervene.

"Yes, we should. Let's drop this on the coffee table and attend to them, alright?"

Niles nodded and both men quickly disposed of the trays and sat on the sofa, Nils next to C.C. and Stewart next to B.B..

By then the crying had quietened, and B.B. was basically holding C.C. in her arms, using one of her hands to stroke her blonde hair.

"Please don't ever leave me again," C.C. was almost begging her mother as she sobbed quietly.

B.B. shook her head, and continued stroking her daughter's hair, "Never, sweetheart, never..."

Stewart couldn't help but be moved by the sight. He had often dreamed of his family willingly and openly expressing their feelings like this, but he never thought it would actually happen. He thought the two of them were just stuck in their ways, only showing their emotions in private, but either he had been totally wrong, or something had definitely changed in them.

Something had definitely changed in him when all of this had been going on. He'd wanted before to be a better parent to C.C., but hadn't really succeeded so much. Her going missing had made him realise that time was far too short to put it off, and her escape and coming back to them made him want to try harder. To start over.

Maybe this was a new beginning for all of them. A second chance. The wake-up-call that they needed, pointing them in the direction of the opportunity to be a proper family, for once and for always.

He reached out with one hand, tentatively, to lay it on B.B.'s shoulder.

B.B. glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of Stewart's tear-streaked face and she smiled. They both smiled, actually, the realisation that they had torn all of their walls down dawning on them.

"I love you both so much," Stewart said, wrapping both B.B. and C.C. in a tight embrace.

"And we love you, Stewart," B.B. replied, angling her head so she could give him a peck on the cheek.

Niles could only observe the scene in silence while a few of his own tears made their way down his cheeks. He didn't feel out of place there, not really, but at the same time he was aware that he wasn't part of that embrace.

Right then the Babcocks needed their space to come together as a family; to hold each other close and relish in the feeling of togetherness that they had been lacking for so long now.

It was their moment – their hug – and he was more than happy to simply observe them holding each other together. He couldn't move, though. C.C. had his hand clasped in hers, and he wouldn't let go not even for all the riches in this world. So he stayed there as the family hugged.

The food had become lukewarm by the time they let go, but it wasn't really a problem. Once again Niles and Stewart took care of heating it up and bringing it back to the living room so they could eat.

C.C. didn't pull away from her mother, though. She ate while leaning against B.B.'s side, and the older socialite was more than happy to hold her.

The meal had been mainly silent – at least until Stewart saw the acoustic guitar leaning against the side of the sofa.

"I didn't know anyone in the family played any instruments," he remarked, reaching out and brushing the strings with the tips of his fingers. The guitar strings gave a faint hum in return.

Niles shook his head, "It isn't the Sheffields who have been playing."

"It's me, Daddy," C.C. smiled a little. "I learned when...when I was kidnapped. He gave me a book on learning to play instruments, and let me have a guitar."

The smile that Stewart had been wearing suddenly went away, "Oh..."

The producer saw the reaction this caused in her father, and felt she should continue quickly, "I enjoyed learning it. Having some music, and keeping myself busy with something, made everything else seem...a little more bearable."

A silence followed. C.C. didn't like it. Better to continue talking, or doing something, to make sure they weren't dwelling on the bad things.

"I could play for you," she offered. "If you want...?"

"We'd love to hear you play, sweetheart," B.B. piped up, attempting to aid her child in easing the tense atmosphere that now reigned in the room.

C.C. smiled up at her mother. "Fantastic! Daddy, could you hand me my guitar?" she asked, sitting back up and straightening her back.

Stewart complied with her request while B.B. backed away from C.C. so she could have room to play. She remembered that, when C.C. had been a child, she had missed almost all of her piano recitals, and she was determined not to make the same mistake again.

The producer sat the guitar on her lap, its back safely cradled against her stomach and began to tune it while the other three people in the room maintained a respectful silence. She strummed on the guitar a couple of times to test if it was tuned, and after a few last minute adjustments, the producer placed the fingers of her left hand on the frets.

C.C. glanced up at her father and gave him a small – almost timid – smile. "I'm going to play a song I came up with during my stay in the cellar..." she sighed, gearing herself up – she had never played this song to anyone before.

A few seconds of silence went past before C.C.'s fingers began picking at the strings, and soon her voice filled the room.

 _"There's a whole other conversation going on in a parallel universe, where nothing breaks and nothing hurts._

 _There's a Waltz playing frozen in time, blades of glass on tiny bare feet..._

 _I look at you and you're looking at me._

 _Could you beam me up? Give me a minute, I don't know what I'd say in it; probably just stare, happy to just be there holding your face._

 _Beam me up, let me be lighter, I am tired of being a fighter._

 _I think a minute is enough._

 _Just beam me up._

 _In my head I see your baby blues, I hear your voice and I, I break in two and now there's_

 _One of me, with you."_

Niles heart felt like it was breaking. And he didn't know if it was from the overwhelming sadness, or if his heart was bursting with love and pride and joy at the sight of her, focused on her song and on strumming the instrument correctly.

She very clearly wanted to get it right.

And if the words told him anything, he knew the reason why. The song had mentioned "baby blues", and hearing someone's voice. And she was singing about not wanting to fight anymore – not wanting to have to struggle to survive...

The song was about them. About her thinking of him during her captivity...

And as she momentarily looked up from the guitar, she caught him looking at her. The eyes she'd apparently imagined during her suffering meeting her own.

They smiled at each other, understanding shared between them without words, and she returned to her song.

Her voice was truly incredible. And Niles was nearly overcome entirely by the emotions surging through him.

He loved her so much. Knowing that she loved him too and that things were truly getting better for everyone was the ever-increasing amount of light at the end of this dark tunnel.

And through all the darkness she had experienced, she had been strong enough to produce something beautiful... something creative and heart-warming. That was a proof of her almost inhuman strength, and Niles felt honoured that his memory had been what had inspired her song.

He couldn't help the tears running down his cheeks while she sang the last stanza and finally finished the song. He was absolutely overwhelmed, just like B.B. and Stewart, who were holding hands as they wept.

They had always known their Kitten was capable of wonderful things, but this... this was probably the greatest thing she had ever done. It took a strong person to create beauty while in the midst of horror and chaos, and C.C. had been able to not only create but also learn while experiencing Hell.

There were a few moments of quiet before C.C.'s fingers began picking at the chords once again, a soft smile making its way across her sharp features.

"I came with this one after... after the first "event"," she spoke, looking at Niles in the eyes. "It was inspired by a little voice inside my head."

She looked back down at her guitar and she began her song.

 _"Find me here, and speak to me. I want to feel you, I need to hear you._

 _You are the light that's leading me to the place, where I find peace again._

 _And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?_

 _Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?_

At this point, it was impossible for Niles to not feel completely shattered inside. Even after...what had happened had happened, she still found something inside her that could create something awe-inspiring, something with pure emotion in it, such as music.

Even after another man had abused her in the most violent and horrific of ways, she still thought of him as a safe place. A safe person. She'd known for so long that she'd loved him, and held him in her heart and in her head to help her keep going.

It made him want to get up and kiss her. The presence of her parents wouldn't deter him from that. The only thing holding him back from doing so would be her own reaction to the gesture. He didn't want to frighten her, or to make her feel like she was unsafe again.

So he promised himself that he'd just hold onto her as tightly as he could, the next time she asked him to.

And she continued, her own eyes filling with tears too. She actually stopped playing the guitar, and only her voice remained as she stood from the sofa and moved towards Niles.

Niles wrapped his arms around her waist, and held her close to him, much like Stewart was holding B.B.. Everyone in the room was crying, and butler and producer could only cling to each other in an attempt to hold the other together. He kissed her cheek, forehead, nose, chin... lips – property before her parents be damned.

"I love you," he whispered to her ear. "So very much."

She half-cried and half-laughed; she had wanted to show this song to him for a while now, but the moment had never come...

And it was quite a coincidence, for tomorrow it would be one year since she had been abducted.

One year since she had experienced a real life version of Hell.

One year since she had been changed forever.

But she felt lucky, too. Despite everything.

Lucky that she'd remained herself enough to get out before she had been changed entirely, and had never found the opportunity to escape.

Lucky that she had somewhere to go back to, with a family waiting for her.

Lucky that Niles was a part of that family, and had never given up hope of seeing her alive again.

Because even though so much damage had been done in her life – in all their lives – she was still there. And she would continue to be there, for as long as she could possibly manage. She didn't want to leave her family again, and wouldn't dream of spending another moment without her Butler Boy by her side.

She nuzzled her head against his, "I love you, too. You have no idea how much."

"I think I do," Niles replied, smiling into her shoulder.

He was right, of course. It was hard not to know how a person felt about someone when they'd composed love songs for them.

"I think we all do," Stewart piped up, bringing the younger couple back to reality. The older man was beaming! Happier than C.C. had seen him in months, if she was being honest.

Surprisingly enough, B.B. looked unfazed by the demonstrations of affection between her and Niles. If this same situation had happened before her kidnapping, C.C. was sure her mother would have risen almighty hell for her being interested in a servant, but it seemed that the terrifying experience had changed them all.

Granted, the older socialite wasn't exactly happy about C.C. dating Niles, but she wasn't about to disturb the peace with trivialities such as class differences. At least not anymore…

C.C. smiled back at her father, a slight blush creeping to her cheeks. "Well… Niles and I… we…"

"You don't need to explain yourself," B.B. interrupted her daughter, rising to her feet and smoothing the wrinkles from her expensive Gucci dress. "We know – well, we've known for quite a while now."

C.C. nodded to herself. Although they hadn't been secretive with their relationship, they hadn't formally announced they were a couple, either. They had had other priorities in mind, so they had simply allowed everyone to assume whatever they wanted. As long as they knew where they stood, then everything would be fine.

"Well… yeah," C.C. replied uneasily. "Are you… are you okay with it?"

Not to get her wrong, she didn't plan on leaving Niles even if her mother was against it, but she did have an interest in knowing how she felt about Niles and her being a couple.

B.B. remained silent for a few moments, busying herself with gathering her purse, scarf and gloves. It became slightly unnerving for C.C., but eventually her mother swiftly made her way to them and smiled.

"Surprisingly enough, I am alright with it," she glanced at Niles. To say that there was warmth in her eyes for the butler would be a lie, but she wasn't disgusted by him either, like she would have once been. "He's clearly been a saving grace, and as long as he makes you happy, then I won't intervene." B.B. gave her daughter a one armed hug and a peck on the cheek. "That's what I want for you, sweetheart – happiness."

Mother and daughter held their gaze, both of them smiling warmly at each other. They had come a long way to finally get along, and C.C. appreciated her willingness to accept Niles as her new partner.

"Thank you, Mother," C.C. said, snuggling against Niles once again.

"No need to thank, dear," B.B. gave Stewart a look and the older man approached the younger couple too. "And you," she addressed Niles, a hard edge to her voice. "Keep taking good care of her."

"I promise I will," he replied, nodding sharply.

In return he got a sharp nod from B.B. and a handshake from Stewart. "Good. Then I believe we'll get going – you clearly need some time alone."

"We'll see ourselves out," Stewart added, taking B.B.s hand in his and turning for the door. "We'll come by tomorrow after lunch, if it's okay for you."

After agreements for a new visit had been made and farewells had been exchanged, the two couples parted ways- B.B. and Stewart headed for the Babcock mansion, and Niles and C.C. towards Niles' bedroom.

Neither of them had said it aloud, but the emotional moment that they had shared had awoken a deep need to be connected, which only served to bring about the desire to try and be together in the most intimate of ways once again.

* * *

 **AN: Hello! Just wanted to give credit where it's due. The two songs that appear in this chapter are "Beam Me Up" from P!ink and "Everything" from Lifehouse.**

 **Anyway, we'll be uploading a second chapter today. Thanks for reading! We appreciate your reviews :)**

 **H &L**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Hi there! Just to warn, this chapter is M rated. Hope you enjoy it! We'd love to hear your feedback.**

 **H &L**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 14_**

 ** _Getting Closer_**

They had discussed this beforehand, but Niles was still tense. He loved her and wanted her so much, but the idea of trying being intimate after what had happened last time still made him uneasy. More so than it made C.C..

He just didn't want to hurt her... he didn't want her to relive the trauma she had gone through, but at the same time he knew this was part of her healing process. C.C.'s therapist had encouraged them to talk about what had happened during her attack so they could avoid triggers – say, he knew she'd want to face him as they made love, that her hands needed to have freedom of movement, that she needed him to go slow, that she'd rather him not touch her upper back, among a number of other conditions.

Niles was willing to do anything she wanted, and he'd support her even if their second experience didn't go as planned. Her doctor had warned them that C.C. could have another flashback, a panic attack, dissociate or have emotional outbursts. Niles also had to be extra careful because it wasn't uncommon that abuse survivors like C.C. subconsciously force themselves to not alert their partner if something was wrong or distressing. Thus, he'd have to be attentive to her body language.

Speaking of language, they had also agreed that C.C. would try and talk to him during their lovemaking – he'd ask how she was feeling and she'd answer. It was just a way to make the whole experience safer and more enjoyable for the producer.

And so there they were... sat one next to the other and holding hands. They both were aware that he wouldn't make a move until she had asked him to.

He heard her sigh and she slowly climbed on top of him, setting her knees on each side of his middle. She didn't look completely at ease, but at the same time she appeared to be calmed and sure about what they were about to do.

He would ask her again, just once more, if she was sure, though. He didn't want her to feel uncomfortable with what they were doing, and even if she said everything was fine before, any number of things could have changed since then.

He kept to his word and kept his hands off her back. Instead, he slowly released the hand he was still holding, and gently caressed her thighs.

"Are you ready?" he breathed.

Her word would make or break what they were doing. It was all down to her.

She seemed to consider, if only for a second or two, before nodding.

"Yes," she murmured in reply. "Yes, I am ready..."

"Alright," he whispered back, the light touches on her thighs becoming a more firm hold. Nothing that could frighten her, just enough to make her feel good.

He leaned in, and tenderly started to kiss her.

They had kissed like this a number of times before, and he always tried his hardest to be the softest he could be. She called the shots, so if she wanted to deepen the kiss, then she'd take the lead.

Well... that was exactly what she was doing now.

She was kissing him harder, her hands growing bolder and exploring the skin of his chest and stomach. They had decided that they'd both be in their underwear at the start of their lovemaking – C.C.'s therapist had suggested that having to get rid of too many clothes could put C.C. on edge.

The only thing separating them from feeling then other's skin was just her bra and panties and his boxers. Seeing as she'd rather not have her upper back touched, C.C. briefly stopped their kiss and got rid of her bra.

"Touch me," she whispered as she rolled to her back and tugged at Niles' hand.

Taking his cue, Niles positioned himself between C.C.'s legs and leaned down as he started kissing and caressing the taut skin of her stomach and chest. He feathered kisses around her breasts, on her lower abdomen, around her belly button...

But he hesitated when the only place left untouched were her breasts. He looked up at her and she smiled.

"Just take it slow and I'll be alright," she said, running a hand through his hair.

He nodded, completely understanding. This was all supposed to be about her pleasure, so he wouldn't dream of going at any pace other than the one she'd asked of him.

"Alright," he murmured.

He wouldn't touch her too hard, either. He didn't want any sudden movement, no matter how unintended it was, to feel forceful.

Thinking about her and the pleasure he could give her, he moved his mouth to her breasts. He kissed, nipped, licked at, and sucked on them, revering and relishing as he went. He could feel C.C. moaning and lightly panting beneath him, and he couldn't stop a groan of pleasure from escaping his own lips as the hand in his hair gripped tighter. His hand slid back down her side again, and held firmly at the point where her thigh met her bottom.

The slow pace was good...it all felt so good...

But what felt glorious was C.C.'s trust in him.

He knew she was still healing and that being intimate represented a difficulty, but she was willing to try. And she had given him the honour of being the man who was allowed to touch her when she wanted him to.

"That feels so good..." she panted wrapping her legs around his middle and egging him on. The feeling of his soft mouth on her breasts was heavenly, but she craved for more...

So much more...

"Take them off!" she grunted, taking her hands off his hair so she could remove her panties.

Niles complied and briefly neglected her breasts to gently slide her underwear off. When he tried to take his hands back to her side, she stopped it and guided it to her womanhood.

The butler froze, and for an instant all movement ceased.

"C.C... what... what do you want me to do?" he asked, looking into her eyes. "Talk to me, love."

C.C. smiled softly. He was being so careful! So sweet and loving...

God how she loved the man.

"Touch me and... and kiss me," she replied.

Niles didn't lose any time and moved up as slowly as he could. He kissed his way up her body and when he got to her neck he nipped at it before capturing her lips in a kiss.

He felt her spreading her legs and he took this as his cue for beginning to touch the sensitive nub on the apex of her legs. As his fingers began to softly work the bundle of nerves, he felt her breath hitch, and she kissed him harder before pulling away to gasp out words.

"Yes...just like that..." she groaned, her eyes closing in satisfaction.

Niles couldn't help but grin. This was how it was supposed to be; him pleasuring her in every way possible, nothing coming between them, and hearing her vocal approval.

Her _very loud vocal approval_ , as he shifted the position of his hand and began to stroke her just a little more firmly. She arched herself up into him, and rubbed herself against his hand.

"Oh, God, Niles..." she panted, trying her hardest to make the experience last but wanting each and every stroke to send her over the edge at the same time. "This feels so good..."

Feeling a pleased chuckle in his throat, he let it out against her neck, continuing his slow, steady rhythm of stroking her. She was enjoying it...she was having fun, and she felt good, and that was doing more for him than he had ever thought possible.

He alternated stroking with his kisses; her lips, her jaw, her cheeks, her neck, her ear...

He didn't speed up. He wanted it to last for her. He wanted her to feel as worshipped and adored as any goddess had ever been in any religion.

But he didn't want to tease her, either, so when her felt that she was about to fall into oblivion he only let her. He held her close and kissed her as she moaned in pleasure. She was lost in a blissful heaven; nothing existed but his hands and lips on her, and for the first time in a long time C.C. began to feel less afraid.

She had experienced something no woman should, and this wonderful man was washing away the stain that her violation had left on her soul. Thomas had turned sex into a weapon, an instrument of torture, while Niles had turned sex into a wonderful way of physically showing his love for her.

This was lovemaking, pure and simple, and it was beautiful.

She felt _loved_... completely and absolutely loved. That's why when she finally fell over the edge the phrase "I love you Niles" escaped her lips in a loud scream of triumph.

He gathered her in his arms as she caught her breath and C.C. felt him brushing her hair with one of his hands.

"Are you alright?" he asked and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

She could only nod.

"Want to take a break?" Niles asked again, looking into her eyes.

"No... no, I... I want you to..." she trailed off, not quite knowing how to voice her needs. "To be connected... I need to be connected to you."

Niles' eyebrow quirked a little. He understood what she meant, there was no doubt about that. He was just wondering if she was really ready. What had happened to her would most likely have made her feel uncomfortable in going that far.

But she wanted it. She had asked.

And he couldn't deny her anything.

"Like I said before," she stroked his cheek with the tips of her fingers. "Just take it slow. Slow and gentle. And I'll be alright."

Niles nodded, and kissed her palm, "Alright, then. Slow and gentle."

C.C.'s smile became just a little wider, and he pulled back to remove his boxers. He didn't know how she'd feel about him getting her to help him do it, so he did it himself, allowing her to watch if she so chose.

He tossed his underwear aside, and repositioned himself between her legs. He slipped himself inside her as he pressed his lips against her neck.

He felt her whimper when he was fully inside her and he stopped. "Are you alright?" Niles asked, his voice tinged with worry. He knew she was probably extremely sensitive down there. "Do you want me to stop?"

The producer took a few calming breaths and shook her head. Although she was slightly uncomfortable, she didn't want to end this just yet. She wasn't in pain or having a flashback, so for now, she was alright.

"No... please, don't," she said softly and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm fine... it's just that it's been a while."

Niles pursed his lips. It tore at him that last time she had been in a similar position, she had been hurt. That thought alone was enough to send him reeling, but for now he had to focus on providing her pleasure.

"Are you ready?" Niles caressed her cheek and she nodded, a little too overwhelmed to reply verbally.

In a sense, the worst part was over, she thought. The initial penetration had terrified her since the first event, and it was always the worst part during the other events. Now Niles was inside her and he was withdrawing slowly. But as he repeated the in and out motions, C.C. began to feel her chest tightening. What moments ago had been pleasurable was now becoming painful and happiness was turning into anguish.

C.C. froze – she couldn't speak, or move and her breathing was shallow. Her body had stiffened and her face screwed up. Niles noticed immediately, the gentle smile he'd once been wearing in order to make her feel more relaxed now gone.

She looked like she was in pain.

He withdrew from her again, making sure he was far enough away that she could get up if that's what she wanted to do, "C.C., love, what's wrong?"

"Pain," she whimpered, her hands, which had been holding him, now on her front and half-clenched, like she was enduring something.

"Is it a flashback?" he asked quietly.

C.C. shook her head, "The motions. They're just too uncomfortable..."

Niles let out a breath. The feeling of having another person inside her like that was still too much to bear.

He was glad she'd told him, not to get him wrong. The thought of someone doing this to her and doing it in such a way as to make her afraid, and to feel hurt by it...that was what he was having issues with.

Niles lay down next to her, but made no attempt to pull her to him or touch her. She needed some space, and he was going to give it to her. What he did do, however, was reach out for one of her hands. She gripped his back, entwined their fingers together and rested them both on her stomach.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"It wasn't your fault," she replied, edging closer to him and nestling her naked form against his side. "You have been wonderful, and I am so very sorry that we couldn't do this properly."

Niles held her tighter, feeling his eyes welling up. It wasn't right! She wasn't to blame here, and she shouldn't feel bad for something that was beyond her control! It wasn't like she had chosen to be assaulted by that piece of shit...

"Don't apologise, love," he kissed her cheek. "It's not your fault either."

C.C. sniffed – Niles hadn't realised she was crying. "I know... but still... I am sorry I can't give you what you deserve."

His heart broke then.

She felt that he deserved the pleasure and the satisfaction, when all this time he had been trying to make sure it was her that felt good, felt comfortable, felt loved beyond compare.

He blinked, feeling hot tears roll down his cheeks.

He couldn't believe that she was more concerned about him not feeling satisfied than what her own body was telling her.

He shook his head, feeling the tears get jarred as he moved, "Never mind about me. This was supposed to be about you feeling good."

She squeezed his hand, "Your pleasure is part of my pleasure. Just like my pleasure is part of yours. How can I feel truly good about myself if I know that you aren't getting just as much out of this as I am?"

"Love, you needn't worry about that – my pleasure is intrinsically connected to yours," he began, kissing her cheek, jaw, nose... "But this is all about you; all about helping you heal. You've been through something no human being should experience, and my only goal is to make you happy."

C.C. shifted in his embrace, feeling a warm sense of belonging washing over her. He was putting her first... ever since she had come back she had become his greatest priority!

And she was honoured...

And grateful, and in love, and happy, and a million of other things.

"I don't care about my physical pleasure right now," he continued, looking down at her and brushing away a few tears that were rolling down her cheeks. "I only care about making you feel good. I knew what I was getting into the moment you came back, and I wouldn't change being by your side for anything in this world," he leaned in and pecked her lips. "I am getting so much from this, love... I get to call you my own, I get to say that I belong to you, I get to say that I love you, and most of all I get to be loved by you."

Niles tipped her cheek with his fingers. "It's all about you, love, and we'll take it slow and take all the time you need until you are back on your feet."

C.C.'s smile began to strengthen, and her heart felt more than a little warm.

Niles truly was an honourable man, and a gentleman. He was giving her all the time in the world to come to terms with what happened, and determined to make sure she felt completely safe and happy again. Even at the cost of some of his own satisfaction, which she still thought he deserved, even if he had told her not to worry about it.

She wanted to make it up to him somehow. She would, she'd decided that part already. It was just figuring out how best to do so that she needed to work on. It would probably come to her fully when she was feeling completely better.

For now, it was just a feeling that she had.

"Thank you," she murmured, nuzzling his head with hers.

"You don't have to thank me," he replied, continuing to stroke her cheek. "I'd do it a thousand times over, as long as it kept making you happy."

C.C. chuckled. This man was truly what she had always needed. And to think that she had pinned after Maxwell when she had Niles right beside her...

Foolish woman.

Well, not anymore! Now she had him with her and they loved each other. For now nothing else mattered. And speaking of that...

"I love you," she confessed and kissed his cheek. "More that you can imagine."

"I love you too," Niles replied and he pulled her into his embrace.

They stayed in silence for a very long time, just holding each other close. Niles' tranquil breathing was soothing, but at the same time C.C. was a bit... frustrated. She truly had been enjoying herself, and now that she was feeling better, a part of her wanted to ask him to get his hands on her and make her scream as he had done before.

Granted, she couldn't quite manage him being inside her, but his touch on the other hand...

That was a completely different story.

"Niles?" she spoke, looking up at him; he had his eyes closed.

Was he asleep? It would be just typical of he was.

But he cracked one eye open and peered down at her comically, making her chuckle all over again.

"Yes, Babcock?" he asked, caressing her lower back (in her comfort zone) lightly.

Suddenly she worried if she might be disturbing him, "Never mind, you were going to sleep; it can wait."

"I wasn't sleeping, love. What can wait?" he opened his eyes fully. "Did you want to ask me something?"

"Yes, but it's fine," she replied quickly, trying to dismiss it. His touch felt so good, and she did want his hands on her like that again, but if he was resting, it could wait.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Because the doctor did say that you should voice what you want to say. And you know I'll be happy to provide."

She hesitated. He was right, the doctor had said that. She wanted to feel his fingers on her, and in her, again. And he'd said her pleasure came first...

There was no harm in asking, right?

"I, uh..." she bit the inside of her lip. "We may not have been able to do it the usual way, but...would you mind touching me again? The way you did before? It felt so good..."

Niles smiled down at her; it was an impish smile, a playful smile... it was the smile of someone who was more than up for what she was asking.

"Oh, Babs, I can do a lot better than that!" he said. He soon noticed her confused stare. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do!" C.C. said as she rolled to her back. "Why do you ask?"

"You'll see," the butler sat up and positioned himself in between her legs. He began kissing her and trailing kisses down her body. Each and every time that his lips made contact with her skin C.C. moaned in pleasure; he just felt so good...

This was exactly what she needed.

And so Niles bathed her entire body in kisses, and his lips soon moved downwards, until they were inches away from her core.

"So this was what you had in mind?" she purred, running a hand through his hair.

"Guilty as charged," he joked, but then looked up at her, his expression serious. "Do you allow me to do this?"

Her answer was her pushing his head down towards her – she definitely needed this.

Laughing inwardly, he began to trace around her most sensitive areas with his lips, wanting to build the pleasure slowly. C.C. moaned in appreciation, and sucked in a hitched breath as his tongue finally darted out, making contact with her skin.

It wasn't quite her innermost area yet. That was still to come.

He repeated the movement several times over, feeling her growing evermore tense at the feeling.

But he didn't want to tease her – she'd earned every single wave of pleasure she felt, but keeping her waiting for too long wasn't a gentlemanly thing to do. So he finally pushed forward into her fully with his tongue, and began to slowly work her with it.

The groan that escaped C.C.'s lips as he did so was pure music to his ears. It was the sound of a woman being completely overtaken by pleasure, with no other worries or troubles to contend with. She was too focused – overcome was more the word – on the feeling of his tongue exploring, probing, enticing every hidden gratification out of her. He couldn't look up, but he felt her hands as her fingers gripped at his hair, and his tongue began to thrust into new, deeper places.

He felt a surge as C.C.'s hips arched underneath him, and another, louder moan.

"Yes, yes..." her breathing was heavy, and her words dripping with lust. "Oh, God, this feels good..."

He wanted to grin, but he'd do it later. He had more important matters to be attending to.

The fact that she was clearly holding back, trying to draw out the pleasure for as long as possible, for instance.

He wasn't going to go against her wishes by making her come before she was ready and really wanted to, so he slowed the movements of his tongue, taking his time to taste her as much as he could, and draw out any satisfaction left untouched.

One of C.C.'s hands left his hair, and clutched at the mattress sheets – he didn't see it, but he could hear.

And over the top of that faint rustling of gripped fabric, he heard his name being moaned, just as her walls began to tighten.

God… Niles, don't you dare stop!" the producer grunted, pushing against him as his tongue drew lazy circles on her clit. "Don't you ever stop…"

If it were up to him, he'd gladly spend eternity pleasuring her this way, but sadly this type of pleasure was never eternal. He slowed his movements and kissed her folds to delay her culmination, but there was a limit to everything in this life, and C.C. eventually wasn't able to hold her orgasm any longer.

With one final, expert lick, C.C. tumbled over the edge, screaming his name at the top of her lungs. She thrashed on the bed, the pleasure being too overwhelming for her to stay put. She barely felt Niles' hold on her hips – he didn't want her to fall from the bed, after all – but eventually she regained control of her ecstatic body.

Niles gave her now hyper-sensitive core one last lick before climbing back up and gathering her in his arms.

He held her to him as she rode out the pleasure, panting heavily. He could feel her heart racing, as he pressed a series of small kisses across her shoulder and collarbone, up her neck.

"That was amazing..." she breathed, swallowing to relieve her dry mouth. "You...were amazing..."

Niles chuckled, "It's the least you deserve."

"If that's the least," C.C. said, "I don't possibly know what you could think of doing to top it."

The one thing on both their minds that they thought might compare to – if not necessarily better – what they had just experienced was still clearly out of bounds for now, so Niles didn't comment.

Instead, he simply huffed out a laugh and ran his fingers up and down her arm lightly.

Eventually – they didn't know how much time had passed since someone had last spoke – C.C. looked up at him again.

"Wait a minute," she said, frowning. "What about you?"

Niles blinked at her, "What about me, what?"

The producer made an odd gesture down towards her legs, "You did all this for me, and you didn't get anything out of it!"

Niles smiled at her, and shook his head, "I got plenty out of it. This was supposed to be about you, sweetheart, not me. Seeing you enjoying the experience was enough for me."

But that didn't seem to be enough for the producer. She knew he'd always put her pleasure first, no matter what she said, but she wasn't willing to let him renounce to all pleasure just because she hadn't been able to bear him being inside her just yet.

There were other ways that she could drive him over the edge without him needing to be inside her!

"As much as I love your altruism," she began, rolling over so she was on top of him. "Right now it doesn't suit you."

Niles arched a questioning eyebrow. He knew she had something in mind by the mischievous glint – oh how he had missed that glint! – in her eyes. He also had to admit that the sight of her completely naked on top of him was turning him on a great deal.

"What is it that you have in mind?" he asked, his voice strained as she grated her nails against his chest.

"Oh, I think you'll find it a delightful idea!" C.C. began trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck. "You see, there is more than one way to make you touch the stars, Butler Boy."

Niles' retort died in his lips, for the gorgeous woman currently on top of him swiftly wrapped her hand around his manhood and stroked it with purpose, her impish smile growing wider when he moaned her name.

"I may not be ready to have you in me, but I can certainly return you the favour," she purred.

She dragged her lips over his neck once more, and then they started to make their way south, down his collarbone and across his chest, heading further without haste but at an extremely sensual pace.

Her hands, which had been stroking him until she felt him stiffen under her touch, slipped out of the way as her mouth left his stomach and trailed kisses past his hips.

Her hands settled there, one on either side, and she began to feather his manhood with even more kisses, delighting in the grunts and groans emulating from Niles' mouth.

The pleasure was building; she could see it, and she could feel it. But he'd done so much for her, she wasn't going to go straight for it directly. Instead, she slid one hand across, and began to fondle everything she came across, all the while dragging her lips over his shaft.

But soon, Niles gave an almost impatient whimper, and she knew the real fun had to begin. Leaving one last kiss on the tip, she opened her mouth and took him inside.

The primal, almost animal-like sound that emanated from Niles' throat was a surprise even to him, but he just couldn't help himself.

The feeling of her lips around him as she began to take him in further, slowly licking and lightly sucking as she went, was not only sending him to touch the stars – just as she'd said, the wonderful, wicked woman – it was sending him far out beyond the galaxy, past the universe and into the heavens themselves...

He found himself doing what she'd been doing only minutes before, and clutching the mattress sheets, and all he could do was moan and shout out in equal measure.

"Oh dear God, C.C.!"

C.C. hummed a laugh. Every lick, or nip, or kiss that she gave him elicited the most delicious groans of pleasure from the butler, and it spurred her on to fasten her movements.

It wasn't the first time that she did this to a man, but it was the first time that she was enjoying herself so much. Her captor hadn't forced herself to do this during her captivity, something for which she was grateful. Otherwise she would have never been able to pleasure Niles how she was doing right then.

Every now and then she glanced up at him and delighted on the sight of his face – his jaw was set and his eyes were closed. Clearly the man was trying to make this last, and being the wicked woman she was, C.C. used one of her hands to fondle him as she took him in deeper and deeper.

"Goodness gracious!" he grunted, digging his nails into the mattress. "If... if you keep that up I won't last!"

C.C. laughed and Niles knew he was lost. Her sultry cackle made his shaft twitch, a tell-tale sign that he was almost there. The producer knew this, too, so she kept sucking him, fastening her pace every time she took him back in her mouth.

When it became apparent that he was about to lose control, C.C. pulled away and used her hand to replace her mouth. She'd truly love to be able to let him finish in her, but she was... not quite ready yet.

She felt like she needed to let him know, though.

"Lover, I'd love to but I... well-"

He pulled her to him and cut her off with a passionate kiss.

"You don't need to explain yourself," he gasped, holding onto her tightly as he felt his peak drawing ever closer. "Every part of you is perfect..."

C.C. smirked, stroking him harder, "When it's touching your genitals?"

He shook his head weakly, almost overcome by the pleasure building up, "When it is, when it isn't, just all the time...oh God, don't stop..."

And she wasn't intending to. She loved how, even in the midst of the desire clouding his judgement, he was able to say the most stupidly romantic things.

She'd never had someone say something so nice to her, especially not in the middle of something like this.

It just made the occasion even more special, in her mind.

He was trying his best to not lose control, either, even though he was right on the brink. He must have wanted to draw it out for as long as he could, just like she had. The pleasure that one could give the other was almost unbelievable.

But he needn't hold back. It's not like this was the only time they'd be able to do this...

"Just let go, lover," she purred in his ear, nipping and kissing at it, all the while rubbing his manhood firmly and quickly. "It'll feel so good..."

Niles groaned as he pressed his face against the crook of her long, soft neck. It smelled like Chanel No. 5... his favourite scent in the entire world.

Not that he'd tell her, but back when she was still missing, he'd spray some perfume on her stolen pillow and he'd press it to him – it had been one of the many things he'd done to try and help himself fall asleep on his hardest nights. But now he needn't do that anymore... she had her right by his side, naked and pleasuring him in ways no woman had ever done before.

He nipped at the skin of her neck. Part of him wanted to let go, for the feeling of her soft hand on him was heavenly. But at the same time he wanted to stretch this for as long as he could.

The latter was what he chose to do.

"Come on," she encouraged him again, squeezing his shaft with her hand, but not hard enough so as to hurt him. "Let go..."

"Not yet," he wheezed, shifting in her embrace so as to slip his hand underneath her head and cradle it. He kissed her tenderly. "Not yet."

C.C. merely laughed and shook her head lightly – the man was stubborn, but he couldn't blame him for wanting the pleasure to stretch into infinity. So she slowed her motions and kept kissing him as she slowly drove him over the edge.

But Niles could no longer delay his orgasm. He held her to him as he tumbled over the edge, her name dropping from his lips in a loud scream. C.C. grinned in utter triumph as he clung to her like his life depended on it, fighting to catch his breath as he rode out the waves of pleasure flooding his brain and washing over his whole body.

Eventually, he calmed enough to speak again, "That...truly, was the most wonderful experience I have ever had."

The producer's face softened into a more loving smile as she shifted to wrap the arm that had been busy working him around his middle.

"Most wonderful _so far_ , anyway," she told him.

He looked over towards where she was smiling at him, and returned her look in understanding. They might not have been able to do everything just yet, but there was plenty of time. All they had to do was be patient, and take things slowly, like they had been doing.

And in between the present time and the time they could go all the way, they still had everything they'd just done. If C.C. was up for it again on another day, he wouldn't mind at all...

"But now," C.C. spoke again, glancing down at both of their lower bodies with a smirk on her face. "Now I think we'd better shower."

Niles looked down too, and he couldn't help but screw up his face a little. She was right, they did need to clean themselves up, and it provided a wonderful opportunity to pamper his beautiful woman a little more.

"I quite agree, my dear," Niles said, slipping out of her embrace and hopping out of bed. He had to lean against the wall for a moment, though. His orgasm had taken everything out of him and his knees had been dangerously close to giving up underneath him.

"Wow..." C.C. spoke, amusement and smugness tinging her voice. "I really am good."

Niles looked over his shoulder and winked at her. She really was good, and he was lucky that she had chosen to use her... "gifts" to give him unparalleled pleasure. "You won't hear me arguing about that, Babcock. But for now, stay put while I prepare us a bath."

He heard sheets rustling.

"I can help you," C.C. said as she sat up. "You don't have to-"

"Please, love, I insist," he had turned around and was looking at her in the eye to make his statement stronger. He knew he didn't have to do it, but he wanted to do it.

He wanted to do it for her.

C.C. rolled her eyes at him, but ended up relenting. Not to get her wrong, being pampered after having suffered from so many mistreatments was exactly what she needed, but there was a part of her that wanted to do the same for the man who had been her salvation.

But, as she had learnt, Niles was usually happier when she allowed him to do things for her, and considering they had just shared a more that pleasurable and intimate experience, arguing about who was to run the bath was the last thing she wanted.

"Alright," she conceded amusedly. "If it'll make you happy, you can run the bath."

"I certainly will, and it will make me exceedingly happy," Niles replied with a grin. He reached over and pecked her once more on the lips, before turning and heading for the bathroom.

The water was on within seconds, and he prepared it with all the nicest scents and oils he could find – honey, lavender, coconut, green apple – and filled it with bubbles, too. It was no less than C.C. deserved, and he put out some clean, fluffy towels within reaching distance for when they were done.

He then returned to the bedroom, slipped his arms under C.C.'s legs and lower back, and carried her into the bathroom as she squealed and laughed in delight. He had wanted to step into the bath and lower them both into it, but then he realised that there would not be enough room for them to sit down at the same time. So, instead he lowered C.C. in first.

But this seemed to present another problem. How would he sit behind her without touching her upper back?

At least, it was a problem to him. C.C., however, seemed to automatically solve it by turning around. Not so that her back would rest against the taps, but so that he had enough room to get in as well.

As he sank into the water, she came closer, and rested on his chest.

"You certainly know how to spoil a woman rotten," C.C. hummed, stroking his chest with her fingers.

"You deserve it, love," Niles replied as he grabbed sponge and lathered it up with soap. He carefully began scrubbing her lower back. "And I get to hug you naked for a little longer!"

C.C. snorted a laugh, propping her chin on his chest. She truly liked being held by him – it made her feel safe. "You don't need to run me a bath to hold me naked. You can do that whenever we both want."

"That is good to know," he moved the sponge downwards and carefully scrubbed between her legs, taking care to not scrape or irritate the delicate skin of her folds. He did tease her a bit, though; he lightly rubbed the sponge against her clit, and in return she gave his shaft a light squeeze with her hand.

"Tease," she muttered, feathering his chest with kisses.

"A tease that loves you very much," he crooned.

"And you are a sap too!"

Underneath her apparently amused countenance, Niles detected a faint trembling in her voice. He had made her emotional...

"A sap just for you, my dear."

They fell silent and simply held each other for a while, just relishing in the blissful feeling of being together. The peace was only disturbed when C.C. opened her eyes and glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall – it read 00:00...

It had finally been one year since she had been kidnapped.

Exactly a year ago, she'd had the worst day of her life. She categorised it as such because it had been the day that had led up to literally everything else. And now...now, she was in the arms of the man she loved more than anyone. Safe, warm, and happy.

Niles noticed what she was looking at, and regarded her thoughtfully. He knew exactly what the time meant, but he didn't know quite what to say about it. What was there to be said? This wasn't something that could be made light of, or dismissed.

The fact that they were where they were right now was something to be celebrated, though. It was the part he should focus on. A year ago exactly, all the horrors they could possibly imagine had begun. And now, well...now, they were over. Well, Thomas was still out there somewhere, but C.C. was safe. She was with him. She was happy.

And he'd be damned if anyone took that from her.

He definitely wasn't going to let the memory of what had happened take it from her right this moment.

"I really do love you," he said quietly, releasing the sponge.

"I know you do," she replied, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. She truly valued being safe with him, but she'd lie if she said she wasn't overwhelmed. It seemed almost unbelievable that so many horrors had happened in the space of one year. But, at the same time, she had experienced one of the best moments of her life – just like the one she and Niles had shared only moments ago.

It had been a year full of intense emotions and experiences, and she decided that maybe she had to focus on the good ones. It wouldn't take the pain away entirely, but it was better that letting the bad memories tarnish her present.

"Love, do you want to talk about this?" he asked, looking down at her and brushing her fingers against her cheek.

C.C. shook her head. She didn't want to talk about the horror, right then; she wanted to enjoy Niles' company and the safety that it provided. There would be other times to talk about the horror or the pain or the sorrow, but right then she just wanted to be happy.

"No... I just... I just want you to hold me, alright?"

Niles nodded and didn't press the subject. Instead, he lovingly cleaned her hair and body before getting them out of the tub. He then wrapped her in a warm fluffy towel and helped her into her pyjamas once she had dried herself up.

They slipped in bed together and Niles held C.C. close to him, not willing to let her go.

No matter what happened, he would never let her go.

"Niles?" C.C. spoke, timidly looking up at him. "I love you."

"I love you too, Babcock," he replied. He'd never get sick of her saying that, or of being able to say it to her. Especially not when she needed it most.

And today of all days was when she needed it most.

They held each other like that for a while, until something caught C.C.'s eye, over on top of Niles' dresser. The bedside lamp was still on from earlier in the evening, and she could clearly see what it was.

The scarf had been folded neatly, but one end of it – the unfinished end – had unfurled when someone had passed by and brushed against it, or some other similar event had happened, and it had been left dangling a little over one of the drawers.

Disentangling herself from Niles' limbs, she climbed out of bed, and went to pick it up. Her instant recognition hadn't failed her. This was the exact same scarf she'd left...

But how was it here?

She turned, and showed it to him, "Niles...where did you get this?"

Niles' eyes widened and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He hadn't wanted her to know that he had the scarf just yet! C.C. was still recovering and he was reluctant to give her anything that reminded her of her cellar, but he had been careless...

Careless enough to let the scarf in plain sight for everyone to see!

"I... uh... well..." he stroked the back of his neck, not knowing what to say or how to justify his actions.

"Niles," she repeated once again, this time more sternly. "How did you get this?"

Niles looked away from her as he gave a loud, resigned sigh. There was no other option but to tell her the truth. Not that he had planned on keeping this secret forever, but a few extra weeks wouldn't have hurt either.

"I... I got it from... from your cellar," he said quietly. "Detective Lane took me there to see what you had gone through. All in an attempt to help you heal."

"You... you went to my cellar?" she squeaked, sitting back down on the bed. "You saw... you saw where he held me?"

He nodded, still unable to look at her.

"And... and you found the scarf?"

He nodded again.

"Oh, fucking Hell!" she barked, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "You ruined the surprise!"

It took a few seconds for him to register what she'd just said, and he slowly blinked as his mind began to comprehend the words – the words that didn't seem angry for the right reason, or refer to the reasons one would assume she'd be angry.

"I'm sorry?" he asked. It was a request for clarification, not an apology. He figured he'd probably give one soon, though.

The half-complete accessory still in her hands, C.C. marched back to the bed, and seated herself on it, legs pulled up onto the mattress. She gestured with the scarf.

"I was going to give this to you when I'd finished!" she explained, sounding more than a little exasperated. "I wanted to be done with it before you saw!"

Well, that was unexpected, for definite. He'd been convinced she'd be upset because he saw the cellar. And because he'd kept something from it without her knowing. Not because of this. Surely...

"You're not angry because I...actually went in?" he asked, still unsure. "You're just upset because I kept the scarf and you hadn't finished it?"

C.C. pursed her lips. She knew he had no way of knowing she'd be upset for him seeing the scarf and that he had gone into the cellar to be able to help her during her recovery, but both things were miffing her. Probably it was just a reaction born from the overwhelming day she'd had, but she couldn't help it.

"Well... yeah," she eventually replied. "I am kind of upset about you going into the cellar and taking the scarf..." she lay back against the pillows and heaved a sigh to try and calm herself. "But I know you didn't do it on purpose."

Niles waited a few moments before he, too, laid down next to her. "I am sorry, love."

C.C. turned to face him and she leaned in to kiss him on the lips. "There is nothing to be sorry for," she said, reaching out for his hand and entwining their fingers together. She hesitated for a second. "What... what else did you find down there?"

Once again silence stretched between them, but eventually Niles opened his drawer and retrieved a little metal box from it. He handed the box to C.C., and the producer carefully removed the lid.

A gasp escaped her lips when she did so.

"The letters..." she whispered. "You found the letters."

He nodded, "Even the police hadn't found them. Detective Lane very kindly let me have them, seeing as there was more than enough evidence already present and they weren't needed."

She turned them over in her hands, staring almost in fascination at her own words as she listened.

She remembered most, if not all, rather vividly. She wondered how long Niles had pored over them, reading each one. But he didn't have to keep them, did he? She was back now, and they were together. Anything she wanted to say to him, she could just say to his face.

The letters, along with the voice in her head, had been a way of expressing things she couldn't say out loud. But now she was free to say what she wanted.

She finally looked back up at him, "But...why did you keep them? I mean, I'm back now."

Niles brushed over the little box with his fingers, "They're still a part of you. I wasn't going to throw them away. And...well, seeing as we're being truthful about this whole situation, I've been trying to fulfil all these hopes and desires that you've had written down. All these things you said in them that you wanted to do when you came back."

C.C. felt her eyes welling up. He had kept them so he could fulfil everything she had wanted to do? He had actually taken the time to read through them and find a way to make all of her hopes and desires a reality?

This man...

This wonderful, caring and loving man...

How had they lost so many years pretending to hate each other? How had she been so blind as to chase after Maxwell when Niles was right there?

That had probably been her worst mistake. Even worse than getting into Thomas car that fateful evening one year ago.

Her kidnapping had shattered her life, but it had also opened her eyes in many ways – one of them being just how much she loved Niles. And he had proved his love for her. In the past months he had been dedicating his time solely to her and to ensuring that she felt better; if that wasn't a testimony of love, then she didn't know what it was.

"Oh Niles..." she let out in a shaky breath as she wrapped her arms around him and bathed his face with kisses. He responded in kind, and soon they were lost to the outside world. Lost in their blissful little universe – a universe in which there was no suffering, doubts or darkness. It was a universe in which only happiness and comfort existed.

Niles kissed her tenderly, and with as much love as he could possibly muster. Unbeknownst to the both of them, he was having a similar train of thought. He didn't know how they had spent so long being enemies, either.

Getting to be something entirely different felt like a new beginning, complete with an entirely new atmosphere. Fresh air, bright warm sunshine, and a pair of secure arms around the both of them.

It was absolute paradise.

Eventually, they had to pull away from kissing, and Niles rested his forehead against hers. He could see her eyes growing heavy, and it was no wonder. It was very much past midnight by this stage, and they had been through a lot of emotional highs and lows within the last few hours.

It was for the best that they rested, at least for a while, and gathered their strength back. After all, tomorrow was another day.

"Someone's getting tired," he teased quietly, nudging her. "What say we both try and get some sleep for now, hm?"

C.C. nodded, "Yeah, okay..."

She let out a yawn, shook herself a little, and then gestured again with the scarf.

"But I'm keeping this for now. You can have it back when I'm finished."

"Whatever you say, Babcock," Niles replied while C.C. tucked the scarf inside her bedside table. She then turned back to him and burrowed against his side, releasing a content sigh when she felt him wrapping an arm around her waist.

Niles then covered then both with the duvet and turned off the light.

"Goodnight, Hazel," C.C. muttered and pecked him on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Babs."

And so, the two lovers drifted into a peaceful slumber, never breaking their tight embrace.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Hi! Sorry for the delay in this update, it's been an hectic week. To make up for that, we'll upload two chapters in a row. We are almost at the end of the storty, by the way! There are only two more chapters after this update, and one of those chapters is the epilogue.**

 **Anyway, both chapters we are uploading today are going to be M rated. Just wanted to let you know!**

 **Hope you like the chapters and we'd truly be thankful for your reviews :) they make our day!**

 **H &L**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 15_**

 ** _I Promise You_**

There was an enticing aroma floating around him. It was the scent of freshly made coffee, waffles, carrot cake, toast and butter. It had been ages since he had smelled so many different types of food at this time in the morning, and his slow-waking mind couldn't help but wonder if the Sheffields had ordered in.

He had awoken only moments ago, but he hadn't opened his eyes yet. Instead, he simply lay there, enjoying the feeling of being cocooned inside a warm blanket and waiting for his alarm to go off.

He soon detected a presence pressed against his back. How odd... C.C. usually preferred to sleep against his side!

"Morning, Lo-" Niles trailed off as he rolled to his side and wrapped his arms around what he thought was C.C.. But as soon as he did so, his relaxed and distended mood came to an abrupt end – the warm thing against his back wasn't his girlfriend but rather a pillow someone had strategically placed there, and there was no sight of the blonde producer anywhere inside the room.

His brow furrowed, and his lips pursed.

Had she slipped back into the routine? He didn't want to believe it. She couldn't be going back, not after all they'd been through to get where they were!

He practically leapt out of bed, threw on his dressing gown, shoved his feet in his slippers, and rushed for the stairs. Months and months of breaking the habit. So many hours spent telling her she didn't have to do these things!

And why didn't she want him to wake up and find her? Was this not the first time she'd done something like this? Had she been keeping getting up early to do something around the house a secret from him, somehow, in order to satisfy a compulsion he so very much wanted to be able to help her overcome?

His thoughts were quick, and they troubled him deeply. But the minute he stepped downstairs, they all left his head from the astonishment.

The kitchen table was set, with stacks of waffles and toast, a pot of coffee and a pitcher of milk all around, set precisely in their right place.

But, right there on the counter in front of him, was the largest, most delectable looking cake he'd ever seen, complete with white frosting. It must have been the carrot cake he'd smelled, when he was still in bed.

That didn't mean it made any more sense, though.

C.C., who had been at the fridge with her back turned to him, turned as she heard his one last step onto the kitchen floor, and she beamed.

"Couldn't wait to be up and at 'em today, huh, Butler Boy?" she giggled. "Surprise!"

Niles looked confused, "...Huh?"

C.C. joined him in his puzzled state, "What, still not awake yet, lover? It's your birthday!"

And it hit him. She was right! It was his birthday! He had woken in such haste that he had completely forgotten about it. But it seemed his Babcock hadn't – and judging by the amount of food on the table she had been planning this for a while.

"Getting forgetful in your old age, eh Methuselah?" she teased, wrapping her arms around his middle and pecking his lips.

Niles laughed and returned the kiss. He'd let her have that one, both because she had prepared him a wonderful breakfast and also because he was still wary of zinging her. She had been abused both physically and verbally, so he usually allowed her to zing him but he didn't fight back.

The exchange of kisses became slightly more heated, and Niles pressed the woman against the kitchen counter. He simply couldn't get enough of her kisses... they were like a drug. The best drug in the entire universe.

Hands were soon slipping underneath their pyjamas and wandering. Ever since they had actually achieved some form of intimacy, they couldn't get their hands off of each other. They hadn't tried to have sex again (mainly because C.C. _just knew_ she wasn't ready) but they had repeated the more than pleasurable activities from the night of the anniversary of C.C.'s kidnapping.

She felt his hand nearing the lining of her panties and...

"Oh my _Gawd_! What is that incredible smell!" a very loud, nasal voice exclaimed as it came down the stairs.

And his hand slipped out again, accompanied by two audible sighs of frustration and disappointment.

They rested their heads on each other's shoulders.

"Is it too late to go back to bed?" Niles mumbled into the fabric of her pyjamas.

C.C. chuckled, "And leave your birthday cake alone, unprotected in this house?"

The butler mumbled something about having more interesting things than cake on his mind, but the producer remained firm. Even if she was sure what he was thinking really was a better idea. But that idea could wait until later. For now, it was time for the both of them to have breakfast with the Sheffields. And for Niles to open gifts that could be opened in front of everybody.

She slid out of his arms, mouthing the word, "Later."

She was met with a knowing – and excited – grin from Niles, just as Fran made it downstairs.

"Oy, what a fantastic-lookin' spread fer the birthday boy!" the brunette woman beamed happily as she came into the kitchen to plant a kiss on Niles' cheek. "Happy birthday, Scarecrow!"

"Thank you, Miss Fine," the butler grinned appreciatively, and gestured towards the food that was set out. "Please, go ahead and help yourself to the toast and the waffles."

He wasn't going to make anyone wait for him to eat before they did. He just had to take a look at his birthday cake. He still couldn't quite believe that C.C. had made it all by herself...

The notion that she had learnt how to cook to avoid being beaten still ached, but over the months he had learnt to accept that C.C. had actually taken a liking to prepare elaborate meals. She no longer felt the compulsion to prepare breakfast or to serve others, but there was still a long way to go until she was emotionally healthy.

But for now, he'd focus on enjoying the beautiful meal she had prepared in his honour. It didn't take long for Maxwell and the children to join them, and after they had cleaned up and stored the leftovers inside the fridge, the family moved to the living room. Niles was ordered to seat on a cushioned armchair with C.C. by his side, and after Fran took a couple of pictures, Niles was finally given his first present.

It was a pair of gold cufflinks and an Armani suit from Maxwell. He then received a card and a homemade pottery from the children and a cologne from Fran.

The last gift came from C.C. – it was a small, white package and Niles immediately suspected what it was. And indeed, he couldn't help the beaming smile when he unwrapped his gift and found the finished, light-blue scarf tucked inside the package.

The wool was very soft, and, like she'd said it would in her letter, matched the colour of his eyes very nicely. She'd taken such care in it, he could hardly believe it wasn't made professionally.

With all her money, all her power and all her influence, she could have gifted him any number of items of clothing from any fashion house in the world, made of any of the finest materials, too. But this meant so much more to him – not only had she made it with her own hands, but she had made it for him, thinking of him, in a time when it seemed that there was no hope left and she'd never see him again.

"I love it," he told her, pulling her in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "And I love you."

"I love you too, Hazel," C.C. replied, hugging him tightly before tugging at the scarf. "Now, come on; let's see what it looks like on you...!"

Her near-order was encouraged by the Sheffields, who picked up their voices jokingly to encourage him, and with a light huff of a laugh, Niles allowed C.C. to wind the scarf around his neck.

He struck a pose, playing around with them, "What do you all think?"

"It looks fantastic on ya, Scarecrow! It matches your eyes," Fran said, snapping another picture of Niles and C.C..

The couple shared a look and they held hands. Of course they already knew that, but Fran didn't need to know about the true meaning of the scarf's colour. It was something private between the two of them, and they didn't really need to share it right then. Maybe in the future, when the emotional trauma wasn't quite so recent...

But for now... it was their own little secret.

"I must say, C.C., this is one fine scarf! You can use it with every garment, Old Man!"

Maxwell grinned at the couple, and gestured at the light-blue scarf. He knew it had been made by C.C., Niles had told him about it.

"And speaking of garments," C.C. piped up, grasping the scarf and pulling Niles in for a kiss. "I have a few that I'd like to show you... upstairs."

It was fortunate that the kids were too distracted with the TV to hear the implication made by the producer. Both Niles and C.C. we're sharing a saucy smile, while both Maxwell and Fran stared at them in something akin to amusement. Maxwell was probably a bit uncomfortable about the clear innuendo hidden behind her words, while Fran was delighted.

As a matter of fact, she was the first to speak.

"Oy, ya two go then! We'll clean up here," the nanny said, ushering them towards the stairs.

Niles and C.C. needn't be told twice. They scurried to their room and almost broke through the bedroom door in their haste to get some privacy, but Niles remembered to close it behind them. Privacy didn't have to be forsaken for the benefit of enthusiasm.

And privacy was what they craved right then.

C.C. wound her arms around his neck, and started to kiss him softly. He returned the kisses eagerly, and spread even more along her neck and her jaw, pressing himself closer to her automatically when she shivered, and moaned in delight.

"So," he began, pecking at her earlobe, "I seem to recall that, downstairs, you had a few...garments, to show me?"

"That I do, Hazel," she purred, pulling away from him with a grin and stroking down his lips with one of her fingers. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable on the bed and I'll go slip them on?"

He didn't need to be asked twice. He went willingly, C.C. giving him a seductive smile as she shut the bathroom door.

And then that was when the idea hit him that now was the time to bring out a little surprise of his own.

Leaning over, he pulled open the draw in the bedside table, and took out a small box. He had bought the promise ring a few weeks after they had been intimate for the first time, but he had refrained from giving it to her. He wanted to moment to be special, but at the same time he was fearful of what her reaction would be.

She had told him Thomas used to call her his wife after he had first raped her, so as a consequence C.C. was now wary of marriage. Not to get her wrong, she still wanted to marry and have a family of her own, but she still wasn't quite ready to call anyone husband or, least of all, to be called somebody's wife.

Thus, Niles had chosen to buy her a promise ring instead of an engagement one – it would symbolise his love for her as his desire to have her in his life as a long term partner, but it wasn't as scary as a proposal.

He could wait for that...

He'd wait as long as C.C. needed him to.

He took a deep breath and clutched the box in his hands, just when C.C. opened the bathroom door. His jaw nearly hit the floor when he spotted her – she was wearing a purple, lace teddy and her hair was loose. She looked like a goddess... a beautiful goddess that was all his.

"I take that you like your gift?" she purred, hurrying to the bed and jumping into Niles' arms.

The moment she did so, Niles fell back against the mattress and the little box slipped from his hand. The producer froze when she saw the Tiffany & Co. jewellery box, and so did Niles.

Silence stretched for far too long, but eventually (and after both of them had seated back up) Niles reached out for the little box and took it back in his hand.

"What... what is _that_?" C.C. stuttered, her voice barely audible.

"It's... a promise ring."

"A what?" more audible this time. But still just as confused.

He swallowed, and tried to explain himself a little better.

"I...well, I know that you're not completely ready for what I really want to ask. A-and that's absolutely fine, I wouldn't ask you to change your mind or reconsider or anything like that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he couldn't help but think about how he could be explaining this so much better. "But...this ring, is a promise. It's a promise of my love and my devotion to you, and how that isn't going to change."

He paused for a while, just to let what he'd said sink in. It appeared to be registering with the producer, as she now looked touched instead of shocked.

"And, it's also a promise that...one day, when you are ready," he took in a breath, "I will ask you. Properly. Because there's nothing I want more than for us to be together in every way possible."

The producer remained silent for some minutes, just staring at the ring that was being offered to her. It was incredibly beautiful – simpler than an engagement ring, but beautiful all the same. It was made of white gold and had an 8 karat, emerald-cut diamond set in it and surrounded by five smaller diamonds. It was elegant and delicate, two traits that Niles had always associated with her.

Part of C.C. felt like crying. Like sobbing until there were no more tears left in her body. She was touched by what he wanted to do, which was to give her a token of his love for her without scaring her. She truly wasn't ready to take such a big step such as getting engaged to him, but this... this was something she could do.

Their relationship was serious, they both knew that, but the trauma prevented C.C. to think about the terms marriage, wife or husband without feeling sick. She knew that she wouldn't be able to tolerate calling anyone her husband or being called wife by anyone – those words were still tinged with horror and dread. And all thanks to that bastard...

But promising to love each other was something she felt ready to do. She loved him and he loved her, the ring was merely a symbol. So why not take it?

What was both overwhelming and endearing, was the notion of him constantly trying to find ways of making her feel more comfortable and happy. They had come such a long way... she now could control her compulsions a lot better, the frequency of her nightmares had decreased and she was slowly regaining the ability to be intimate with a man.

All those things had been achieved by her, of course, but Niles' help had been absolutely pivotal.

There was no doubt in her mind about what her answer would be.

She launched herself forward and wrapped her arms around Niles, who quickly reciprocated with a hug of his own.

"I love you so very much," she mumbled. "And I'll be honoured to carry that ring on my finger."

The butler let out a shaky laugh – after such a long silence he had almost been sure that C.C. would not want to wear his ring, so this was a pleasant surprise. "I love you very much, too. And even if we never get past this stage, I will love you forever."

"I know," she whispered, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. "But we will move past this stage, I'll overcome the fear... time is all we need. Time to heal..."

"Take all the time you need," he reassured, holding her close. "I'll always be here for you."

C.C. choked out a laugh and gave him a kiss on the side of his neck. "Then prove it and put the ring on my finger, Hazel."

And he did just that, his own hands shaking as he released her. He pulled the ring from its holder in the little box, and slipped it on. He took a minute to admire how good it looked, and felt, to have her hand held by his own, a ring decorating her finger.

C.C. was admiring, too, almost in wonder. Doing that hadn't felt scary or unnatural at all. On the contrary, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Having a ring on her finger, placed there by the man she loved most in the entire world, felt like a long time coming.

And that was just the beginning, too. He'd said the ring was a promise – of his eternal love, and of the fact that, one day, he would ask her to be... she still couldn't quite think it yet, but she didn't feel nearly as frightened by the prospect as she would have done before.

It would be something else that was a long time coming.

She closed her hand over his, "I love you, so much..."

"I love you, too," he replied, coming forwards to gently embrace her, and kissing her shoulder. "And this has been the best birthday a man's ever had."

She responded by planting little kisses on his jaw and neck, "Your birthday's not over just yet, Butler Boy..."

She could almost see the pleased grin etched across his face as she feathered even more kisses down his neck, focusing on the point where his left shoulder met his neck.

"Well... I do believe you mentioned having bought this enticing garment for me," he crooned, his hands beginning to caress her sides.

"And that's absolutely true," the woman's hands began unbuttoning his pyjama top. His chest was soon uncovered and C.C. pushed him down onto the mattress. She was feeling adventurous, and although being touched by him was nice, she felt like trying to give another step forward in terms of intimacy.

Bort had said that this particular "exercise" could help her with overcoming the fear and the trauma, but she needed to be very careful; if done wrong, she might experience a flashback. The last thing she wanted, was to have a flashback right then.

"I am a lucky man then," he chuckled, his hands wandering over C.C.'s form but keeping firmly to her lower body.

"Indeed... especially since I am feeling... _adventurous_ ," she purred, raking her nails against his chest. "You see, doctor Bort suggested we try something new – I am not ready to have you move in and out of me, but you can be in me as you touch me. It will help me to actually feel pleasure when you are in me, which due to… what happened… I can't quite manage yet."

So... she was proposing that he entered her, remained still and got her off with his hand while he was in her? Niles' eyebrow raised. To say he wasn't interested would be a complete and utter lie. The thought actually aroused him very much.

And it would help her feel more relaxed and comfortable. It was a huge step forward in the intimate part of their relationship. That was the most important part. He kept reminding himself of that, even though her nails down his chest was making him find it hard to think straight about anything at all.

"You like that idea?" she asked, the tips of her nails brushing down past his torso towards his hip, and then back up again.

He nodded, his breathing growing heavier with every touch. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it.

"Yes...very much," he answered.

C.C. gave him a pleased smile, "Good."

She slipped her legs over his, straddling his waist and reaching her hands further inside his pyjama shirt, her fingertips massaging his skin as they explored.

"Then what's say you and I get started?" she asked, her eyes darkening with the desire she was feeling for him.

"You don't need to say it twice," he growled, and carefully rolled to their sides so they were lying on the bed, facing each other. It would be logistically easier for him to touch her if they were in this position. It was a really intimate and loving one; they were facing each other, faces inches away and bodies pressed together.

Their clothes were still in the way, but that was a problem easily solved.

"Take it off," C.C. ordered after she'd unzipped her teddy – as the zipper was on her back, she'd still rather do it herself.

"As you wish, love," Niles helped her pull down the straps and then sensually removed the garment, leaving her completely naked before him. "God... you are gorgeous!"

C.C. blushed. She still felt butterflies in her stomach whenever he said so. She threaded her fingers through his hair and leaned in to give him a kiss. It was her turn to help Niles out of his clothes now – she hadn't really done it before, but she felt ready now. She discarded his shirt, pyjama pants and boxers, leaving him naked before her, too.

Seeing as this was a new attempt at being intimate, she really didn't feel calmed enough for some foreplay. Instead, she hooked her leg around his hip and used her hand to guide him to her entrance. They stopped for a second to share another kiss before he finally pushed inside her.

Her breath hitched as he entered her, and she closed her eyes and bit her lip softly.

It didn't feel bad at all. It felt good. Probably not as good as it would if so many complicated things hadn't happened already, but good enough that she didn't want to back out of what they were doing to try something else

She wasn't going to back out of them pleasuring each other entirely, that was already decided.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, his hand tracing soft circles on her hip as he waited for her to confirm what he had to do next.

"Ye-yes," she replied, controlling her breathing as she reached for his hand.

"If you're not ready, just tell me," he said calmly, as he allowed her to entwine their fingers so she could have a second to decide before anything went any further. "We can always-"

"I want to try this," she interrupted softly but firmly, bringing his hand gently down and guiding it to her innermost area before smirking at him. "Besides, good little Butler Boys get treated on their birthdays."

She felt his shaft twitch inside her. The way she spoke – her sultry tone – had always aroused him. But he was also touched by her willingness to try new things, and to do it on his birthday.

It was still all about her, that was for sure, and he wanted to give her just as much pleasure as she was giving him.

"You wonderful, wicked woman," he murmured and caught her lips in a kiss. C.C. continued to guide his fingers to her core, and Niles slowly began drawing circles on it with his fingers.

C.C.'s breath hitched again, and she hid her face in the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. This felt more than good... this was _glorious_. She liked having him inside her, and as he was not moving she felt completely at ease and in control. Her body was still a bit tense, that was true, but as he continued to stroke her, she began to relax.

Well... figuratively speaking.

As Niles slowly dragged to her peak, C.C. couldn't help but press herself closer and closer to him, muffling her moans of pleasure against his neck. He soon had to busy his lips with kissing her, for her tightening walls and the fact of feeling her building orgasm from inside her was slowly bringing him over the edge, too.

The whole position they were in was positively erotic, and at the same time they could feel the love surrounding them.

"God... Niles!" she whimpered. "I'm... I'm about to..."

"I know... me too," he replied, his voice equally strained.

They stumbled over the edge together, muffling their moans of triumph by pressing their lips together in a passionate and loving kiss.

They rode out the waves of pleasure clutched in each other's arms, breathing heavily, and Niles slowly pulled himself away from her. For them to both be able to feel that love and that pleasure at the same time was astounding. C.C.'s adventurous, if slightly experimental, idea had paid off. He removed his hand, and stroked it down her leg, which had tightened around his hip when they were nearing their peaks and was just now starting to relax again.

"How was that for a little adventure?" he murmured, feeling her hand slip from his shoulder and go back to his own.

But this time, C.C. didn't move their hands anywhere. She just wanted the extra intimacy in the afterglow. But that didn't mean she wasn't still going to be a little playful.

She glanced down slyly, at their naked bodies, "Well, for one thing I wouldn't say it was a _little_ adventure..."

Niles smirked, but said nothing. Instead, he let her continue.

"But I would say that it was wonderful," she finished. "If we can manage things like this more often, then...well, who knows?"

 _Who knew_ , indeed. He smiled at her, and gave her a soft peck on the lips.

"We'll take all the time you need to."

"And I can't thank you enough for that," she replied snuggling closer to him and bringing their entwined hands to her chest.

"You don't need to, love. This is more than enough," he pecked her lips again and briefly moved to cover them with the duvet, slipping out of C.C. when he did so.

The woman whimpered at the loss of contact with his manhood, but she knew they could try again... in a little while. Meanwhile, she allowed Niles to hold her close and caress her naked form, taking care not to touch any of the "forbidden" areas.

"Happy birthday, Hazel," she muttered, nestling her head in the point where his shoulder met his neck.

"A very happy birthday, indeed."

This, they both thought moments before they dozed off entwined in each other's embrace, was probably how being in heaven felt like.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Chapter 16_**

 ** _The End Of A Nightmare_**

"But are you absolutely sure about this?"

That was the question Niles had been repeating all morning as the two of them went about their morning routine, and it was starting to irk her. She understood his fears and reluctance, but she was sick of feeling like a prisoner in her (current) home.

Nearly a year had passed since she had escaped from Thomas' house – eleven months and two weeks, to be precise – and she no longer wanted to depend on someone to drive her or walk her where she needed to go anymore. She finally wanted to venture into the city on her own.

She'd start little – a four block walk to Bort's office and then back to the mansion – but it was better than remaining hidden inside the mansion. She was sick of putting her life on hold because of Thomas still being out there, and she didn't want to cower in fear any longer.

The police had been searching for the man for almost a year now. Was she going to hide indefinitely until he was found? Not if she had a say in this...

The area was being patrolled by a number of police officers and it was 3 o' clock in the afternoon! There was no danger whatsoever in wanting to go by herself to her therapy session.

"Yes! Yes I am sure, Niles," she snapped, grabbing her coat from the entrance closet and slipping it on. "It's just four blocks, I don't need you to walk me everywhere."

The butler frowned. "I am just worried for you, love. That man is still-"

"And I refuse to put my life on hold any longer," she cut him off, grabbing her purse and opening the door.

"Wait," he put a hand on her shoulder. He had been going for her wrist, but thought that might come across as too threatening. Or like he was holding her back.

He didn't want to hold her back. He just couldn't help feeling the anxiety gnawing away at him. He knew the chances of anything going wrong were slim, but while there was still a chance, he didn't want to take the risk.

He still felt her going out completely on her own was too big a step.

"Wait for what?" she asked. "I'll be late for my appointment, so you've got one minute, and then I have to leave."

Maybe he should go after her. Not at exactly the same time, so that she didn't feel like he was trailing her (even if his conscience was telling him that this was an awful lot like trailing her, even if he meant her no harm). But walk a little ways behind, so that he could see if something was about to happen.

Like a bodyguard. Not exactly escorting, but protecting all the same.

"Just keep an eye out, and be careful," he told her, giving her shoulder a squeeze and seeming to relent. "I love you."

C.C. softened, "I love you, too."

She took a step back towards him, and gave him a kiss, "I'll see you in a little while."

She then took a step towards the door, took in a deep, confidence-building breath, and stepped outside, shutting the door behind her.

The moment she did so she felt her chest tightening ever so slightly. She was about to do it... she was about to face her fear of being on her own! And she felt insanely proud of herself.

Granted, she was incredibly nervous, but she was willing to try and overcome her fears little by little.

"Here I go," she muttered to herself as she climbed down the doorstep and began her short way to Bort's office.

The air around her was cold and the sun was shining in the sky; a perfect winter morning in her opinion. There were few cars in the street, so there was a peaceful silence floating in the air, relaxing the producer further. It was nice to be out – it was nice to be able to hear the clattering of her heels against the sidewalk and feel the winter wind playing with her hair.

Part of her felt like crying out in joy, but she knew she should hold it until she had gotten to Bort's office. The first two blocks went past her in a bit of a blur, so she decided to slow her pace and enjoy the last two blocks – to savour her freedom.

She briefly stopped to look at the tall buildings around her; it had been a while since she had appreciated the beauty of New York… actually, it had been a while since she had felt relatively at ease while being alone in the street.

The buildings were towering over her, illuminated by the cold, comforting, pale light the winter sun provided. The cold was bitter, but she relished it – she relished being wrapped up in a warm, cosy and comfortable coat and having her neck encased in a white, woollen scarf. Despite the cold she felt warmer than if it were a summer day; she was walking confidently down the street and smiling to herself.

She was truly overcoming her fears.

The producer closed her eyes, took a deep breath and enjoyed the refreshing cold floating around her but not being able to penetrate through her coat. The last time she had been out during winter she had been underdressed, malnourished and had just escaped from a nightmare. There was a part of her that hadn't believed she'd be able to enjoy or even feel comfortable during wintertime again, and yet here she was.

She opened her eyes once again – she had to keep going or she'd be late for her appointment.

Immediately after she had given the first step, C.C. felt a pair of horribly familiar hands wrapping around her waist and mouth and dragging her into an alley a few feet ahead of her.

"I told you I was going to be back," Thomas' slimy, disgusting and terrifying voice whispered to her ear as he tried to press a cloth drenched in chloroform against her nose. "Missed me, _darling_?"

Fear wrapped itself around C.C. with a vice-like grip. Her whole body was crippling, her legs could barely hold her, her heart was thumping against her chest and it was hard to breathe. She knew she couldn't allow herself to black out – if she lost consciousness, then she'd wake up in that Godforsaken cellar or even worse…

She had to fight; she had to win!

She couldn't allow him to take her again… not after having been free for almost a year and when Niles was waiting for her. She didn't want to go back! She didn't want to go away and be beaten and starved and… God… not that again!

Everything was spinning, she was feeling sick, and she wasn't strong enough to keep fighting her for a long time…

The man had pinned her to the wall, and she felt him sliding his free hand underneath her skirt.

"I certainly missed this," he hissed.

Suddenly, the pressure was away from her. His hands were torn away from her body and the soaked rag fell to the ground. She stumbled, gasping for clean air, and she swiftly turned to see who or what had saved her...

As her vision cleared with her lungs, she saw them.

Niles, grappling with Thomas. The butler's look of fury was one that she'd never seen on anyone else's face before – it was the righteous fury of seeing someone he loved be hurt, and almost taken away again, and the knowledge that he wasn't going to let that happen.

It was fuelling his adrenaline, which fuelled his strength, which he used to slam Thomas into the wall behind them, pummelling him in the stomach, over and over again. Thomas tried to fight back, to force Niles' hands away, but the butler held firm, and stomped on his foot to distract the attacker so he could continue to rain down blows on his head and face.

"Son..." Niles punched him on the nose, breaking it in half. "...of..." another blow to his face, "... a bloody..." and a kick to the stomach, "... bitch!"

C.C. was impressed by both Niles' rage and strength. She had never seem him so furious before, and she certainly hadn't known he was capable of such violence.

A violence well deserved by Thomas.

Her attacker tried punching the butler a few times, but to no avail. Niles was stronger and he wasn't willing to let him get away this time.

"You are dead! Do you hear me?! Dead!" Niles glowered, throwing Thomas to the floor and pinning him down to it with his knee.

C.C. wanted to do something to help, but she was still too dizzy due to the chloroform she had inhaled. However, she did have the clarity of mind to think about calling Lane. Supporting her weight against the wall as she went, C.C. dashed to her purse, from where she retrieved her mobile phone.

She barely knew how she managed to call the detective and give her directions before she went back into the alley. The two men were still struggling against each other and only for a second Thomas broke free from Niles' grasp and charged against C.C. once again. Niles was right behind him, but could only swipe air as the man leapt at C.C..

But somehow, even in the midst of seeing her attacker heading straight for her, ready to kill if necessary, she wasn't afraid. Well, not like she would have been, anyway. It felt more like the type of fear one had before making a bungee jump for the first time.

 _Adrenaline_. And it wasn't telling her to flee for once. It was telling her to confront the demon and fight.

She didn't feel afraid. No. She felt ready.

That was why, as he came within distance, she swung her fist out, and punched Thomas square in the jaw.

She had gained some much-needed weight, and put strength back on, since being out of her captivity. It wasn't quite enough to floor him, but it made him stumble, and it made him bleed...

It had made him bleed! She'd split his lip! She'd left a mark on him for once!

And something inside her suddenly sparked, and a fire came to life. It was like there had been so much inside her, ready to burn, and this had finally struck the flint. This time it was she who charged against her attacker, who was being held once again by Niles. She was fuming, and she had months of violence and hatred she needed to get off her chest.

She toed off her other heel for more comfort and she then moved towards her kidnapper and looked at him straight in the eye, hers burning with a hatred more powerful than any Thomas could muster.

"I am sick of your shit," she snarled, aiming another punch at his face. "I am sick of your slimy hands on my body," and another punch to his already broken nose. "But most of all, I am sick of you!"

The producer gave Thomas such a strong kick in his genitals that the man's knees gave out underneath him and he fell to the ground, completely defeated and in pain. C.C. kicked him again just for the pleasure of hurting him, and Niles observed her proudly, making sure to hold the attacker down while C.C. hit him wherever she pleased.

She was exhausted, and it was a blessing when she heard Lane screaming "NYPD!" from the entrance to the alley.

Both Niles and C.C. stepped away from the kidnapper, allowing Lane and the police officers she had brought as reinforcements to help her apprehend the disgusting lowlife at long last. They dragged the man to his feet, and forced him to stand as they began to search him.

Lane read him his rights as they did, slapping a pair of handcuffs on him as they finished, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney present during questioning, now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you if you wish. Do you understand these rights?"

Thomas gave a vague grumble, and spat out a mouthful of blood onto the ground.

"That's not an answer I'm afraid," Lane snarled. "I said, do you understand these rights?!"

"Yes, I understand," Thomas almost gargled his reply. His broken nose was probably making it hard for him to speak.

"Good," Lane stepped back, and allowed the police officers to take him to the car. "Get him out of here. I'll stay to speak to the witnesses."

They watched as the kidnapper was bundled into the back of the police car, and driven away.

Once the vile scum was out of sight, C.C. cried out in relief and jumped to Niles' arms. He held her close, not wanting to ever let go, but also feeling the relief of everything being over. She didn't need to hide anymore – she didn't have to fear that monster coming back for her anymore! She was free, and all that they had left to do, was to move forward together.

Not to get him wrong, C.C. was still recovering and Thomas would have to be trialled, but now that her kidnapper was in jail, the road didn't feel endless anymore. It was a long way to go, but they had no rush.

And, most importantly, they'd transit it together.

Lane observed the couple in respectful silence, a beaming smile etched on her face. The Babcock case had been long, stressful and, at times, frustrating, but it had finally come to an end. It had been quite some time since she had gotten attached to the victims she protected, but both Niles and C.C. were special for Lane.

She had witnessed the butler's pain during the months she had been missing, and she had consequently witnessed him hold the producer together when she couldn't do it herself. C.C. was truly a formidable woman, and Lane would forever consider her the strongest woman she had ever come across with.

But as much as she wanted to let them hold each other, she still had some work to do. She cleared her throat and the couple pulled away, their attention drawn to the middle-aged detective.

"Are you both alright?" Lane asked.

Niles and C.C. exchanged a look; Niles was feeling fine (if a little worn out due to the fight) and his concern was C.C.. The kidnapper had pressed a cloth drenched in chloroform, so it was all up to how she felt.

"We are fine," the producer spoke, her voice slightly hoarse. "Just agitated, that's all."

Lane nodded. "Excellent. I know this is probably the last thing you want, but I need you two to come down to the station for a few questions – we'll need them for the trial and they have to be done now."

The couple didn't protest – honestly, if it would help putting Thomas way, they'd do it without hesitation.

"Sure thing, Detective Lane," C.C. said, curling an arm around Niles' middle. "Anything to put the bastard behind bars."

The three of them shared a smile before making their way to Lane's car.

The interrogation didn't last long, and neither C.C. nor Niles uttered a word during the trip back from the police station. The shock was probably responsible for this, but at the same time Niles suspected that C.C. needed the silence to come to terms with the fact that her torture was over.

It was finally over...

She no longer had to fear Thomas emerging from a dark alley to take her back to the cellar; she no longer had to feel like a prisoner; she no longer had to hide...

It was probably overwhelming for her, and he respected her need for tranquillity. He even remained in silence after both he and C.C. retired to their room and cuddled together in bed. She had lain her head on his chest, and he was brushing a hand up and down her lower back. She was completely relaxed, at ease... maybe for the first time in months.

By now, he had learnt that C.C. found comfort in silence. After overwhelming or emotional events, it wasn't uncommon for her to need the quiet while he held her. And he was more than happy to do just that – hold her until she felt better or said otherwise.

"It's over," she eventually whispered, looking up at him. Her eyes were welled up with tears – happy tears. "Niles... it's finally over! I am... I am finally free."

His own eyes involuntarily filled with tears, too, and his heart felt like it would burst at hearing her so happy.

He couldn't believe how far she had come in her journey to be free of the overwhelming pain and fear that all of this had left her in, but in her words, there was a brightness that at one stage he'd wondered if they'd ever hear it again.

It sounded like hope. And relief. And peace, all rolled into one.

He beamed down at her, slowly reaching up a hand to wipe away the tears before they fell too far, "Yes, my love. You are."

C.C. grabbed his hand and kissed the palm, grinning, before moving up so that she could kiss him several times on the mouth.

He reciprocated, and eagerly so; he hadn't seen her this vibrant, and full of life and full of love, in a long time. Even before now, though he knew her love for him was just as strong as his was for her, she had been a little contained because of everything that had happened.

But here, in this moment, she was finally fully letting herself be as free as they had wanted her to be from the moment she came back to them, and doing what she wanted.

And he was more than proud of her for it, even if that thought became rather hazy as the kiss began to deepen.

His heart finally burst when he felt her glorious, sultry laugh against his lips. She was laughing! It wasn't just one of the half-hearted chuckles they had gotten used to hear from her; it was her trademark laugh. The deep, rich and sultry laugh that he loved so much and that he had missed with abandon.

They pulled away for some air, both of them wearing beaming smiles. Her eyes were shining with a glimmer of hope and life that made them look ten times bluer, and Niles couldn't help but cup her cheek in his hand and caress it with her thumb.

"I love you," she said softly, covering his hand with hers.

"And I love you, C.C.," Niles replied, his voice overwhelmed with emotion.

She caught his lips with hers once again while her hands travelled to her shirt and began unbuttoning it. He didn't stop her; he knew what she needed, and she was going to allow her to call the shots. If she wanted to feel his skin, to touch his chest of get rid of his clothes then so be it.

His hands travelled to the places that he knew she was alright with him to touch, and he contented himself with slipping them underneath her blouse and feeling her soft skin against his fingertips.

His touch elicited soft moans from her and she almost unconsciously rubbed her lower body against his.

"God... Niles, take this off," she grunted, fumbling with his open shirt and trying to take it off.

He chuckled and briefly pulled away to discard the offending garment before stamping his lips on hers again.

"Help me here," she said in between kisses, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of her own blouse.

He obeyed without a second of hesitation. She was calling the shots, and whatever she wanted, he would do.

Not to mention the fact that this was turning him on a great deal.

He pulled open the buttons on her blouse, and she quickly pulled it off, so that her upper body was clad only in her bra.

When they'd gotten comfortable after getting back, they hadn't thought about changing into pyjamas. He wanted to ask if she was alright, seeing as clothes were coming off, and it was the first time they'd really been so...dressed, when trying to do something like this.

Of course all he wanted was for her to feel comfortable. And she certainly looked comfortable enough, but what if that changed?

She noticed his hesitation, and looked down at herself before looking back up at him, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, love, everything's fine with me," he replied, nodding. "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"Oh, I'm more than okay," she smiled at him, reaching around her back, before suddenly stopping, as though she had an idea. "In fact...I think I'd like it if you took this off for me..."

Niles eyes widened in surprise. She was truly asking that he took off her bra? Her upper back was one of the areas he knew were out of bounds, but she seemed to have changed her mind... or, at least, she was willing to try something new.

She was in charge, there was no question about that, but there was a fearful part of him that was preventing him from complying with what she was asking. Sensing this, C.C. gently took his hands in hers and guided them to her back, setting them just beneath the clasp of her bra.

C.C. shuddered when his hands first made contact with her skin, but she was soon smiling down at him. The happiness and the triumph in her eyes almost made Niles want to cry again.

"Come on, Hazel, we aren't getting any younger!" she encouraged him.

Niles chuckled in response and finally unclasped her bra. He then helped her get rid of it, leaving her chest completely uncovered. His hands slid from her back towards her breasts, and he gently fondled them.

"As much as I am enjoying this," she said, her voice strained. "I think we are still overdressed for the occasion."

Niles smiled impishly, taking his hands to the zipper of her skirt while hers moved to unbuckle his belt.

"That is a problem easily solved, Babcock," he groaned and in a matter of minutes both of them were only in their underwear.

She automatically rolled to her back and tugged at his arm so he'd settle in between her legs. But Niles hesitated, an idea having crept into his mind. He remembered how, before, he had been over her as they made love. He wondered if, perhaps, him being on top was too domineering, and felt too much like she wasn't in control for her own body's liking.

Maybe there was a way to rectify that which would see them both satisfied...

"Are you sure something's not wrong, Niles?" C.C. breathed, her body almost quivering entirely with the anticipation. "If you're not feeling it, we can wait..."

He shook his head, inwardly amused by the fact that she was taking his own comfort into account when he'd only been concerned with hers, and would continue to be.

"It's not that, it's just...I was thinking," he swallowed. "Maybe...maybe it would be better if you were on top?"

C.C.'s eyebrow raised, a smirk creeping onto her features, "What brought this interesting little idea about?"

He explained to her as he lay himself down, allowing her to sit up, so she could decide whether or not to take up his offer. As always, it would be up to her.

"I just thought that, maybe, you'd find it more comfortable," he said. "You'd be in complete control, of everything. When we started, whose underwear came off and when..."

C.C. gave him a look que couldn't quite decipher. He hadn't seen that expression before, and he wasn't sure if it was good or bad. She didn't look angry or fazed, but she didn't look happy or excited either. It made him think that she was deep in thought. He was about to move or say something when C.C. leaned down and kissed him hard.

"You have no idea how much I love you," she whispered against his lips, running a hand through his hair as she moved to straddle him. "You have no idea just how much I love, value and want you."

Niles felt the raw emotion seeping through her every word, and he'd be lying if he said that they didn't move him, too. She was obviously touched by his suggestion, and knowing her he could imagine why. He had put her first since she had escaped from Thomas house all those many months ago, and he'd continue to do so until he had given his dying breath. Her pleasure, her wellbeing and emotional stability were his priority in life, and she had always said just how thankful she was for that; because, even in the midst of a lusty haze he was lucid enough to put her pleasure first.

"And I love you, C.C.," he replied, brushing his hands up and down her sides. "So, I take you agree with my suggestion?"

C.C. grinned as she straightened her back, raking her nails against his chest as she went. "Well… there is something incredibly alluring about having you at my mercy."

He knew it was more than that – it was common knowledge that C.C. would never pass up an opportunity to have him do as she said. She appreciated the fact that he had thought of making love in a position that would make her feel more comfortable and in control of the situation.

"I am glad then – you know I am a dutiful servant," he retorted, trying not to moan when C.C. rubbed herself against his crotch.

"That's what I wanted to hear."

Only their underwear remained on their bodies, and C.C. had no interest in him having his boxers on for much longer. She brought her hands back down his chest, her nails still scraping lightly against his skin, and she slipped them beneath the fabric of his shorts.

With a grin the Cheshire cat would envy, she explored inside with her fingers, delighting in the hitched breathing and the feeling of Niles' hands gripping her thighs as he tried to remain composed. Not that she was going to make it easy for him. He'd given her this position, so she was going to do as she pleased with it.

She stroked his manhood softly a few times, actually excited (and not apprehensive at all) by the prospect that it would be inside her soon enough, and then swiftly brought his boxers down, allowing him to kick them away.

She reached over and pulled his hands towards her, guiding his fingers inside the lining of her own panties. Niles understood what she wanted: she'd just taken off his underwear, so she wanted him to take hers off, too. They were going to be equals in this. He pulled them down, stroking the inside of her thighs as he went, and eventually they were both naked, underwear tossed into a small pile on the floor next to the bed.

But C.C. didn't want to waste time admiring the view, even if it was magnificent. She retook her position, one leg either side of him, hands on the mattress, and lowered herself onto him.

Both of them gasped when he was nestled deep inside her. For C.C. the feeling was incredibly foreign, but for the first time in what felt like a lifetime she found that having a man inside her felt absolutely glorious.

It no longer hurt or made her uncomfortable; now it only brought pleasure.

She knew that during her recovery there would be ups and downs, but for the first time she actually believed that she had a chance – a real chance – of leaving the horror behind.

C.C. was still for a few moments, trying to get used to having Niles inside her. She focused on her breathing and she lowered herself so her torso was pressed against Niles'.

"Hold me," she pleaded and trailed kisses along his jaw. She'd start moving eventually, but she needed a moment to just savour the beauty and pleasure of just holding him inside her – the beauty of being connected in then most intimate of ways.

Niles complied by wrapping his arms around her. He felt her sigh, completely blissful and relaxed. They had no rush, and both of them revelled in the feeling of utter happiness and love that enfolded them like a cocoon.

They kissed and caressed each other for a while, and eventually, C.C. began to gently rock her hips back and forth. And with it, she began to moan. The feeling of Niles moving inside her was absolute bliss, and he was more than happy to let her take things slowly.

Every now and again, he'd add to the rhythm she was slowly building by gently thrusting upwards into her, and C.C. gave a delighted squeal every time he did.

It felt good. More than good. It felt _fantastic_.

And it spurred her on, until she was creating a constant, steady rhythm with her hips, rocking forwards and backwards and gripping his sides as the pleasure overtook her. Niles was lost in the feeling of being inside her, too, his thrusts steadily growing stronger, but never so strong as to become too powerful, and soon he could feel her beginning to tighten around him.

C.C. could feel it, too. She knew she was close. But it had been so long since she had enjoyed this, so long since someone had made love to her like this (if any of her previous relationships had involved lovemaking), that she wanted it to last.

She slowed the rhythm just enough that perhaps it wouldn't happen quite so fast, but not so much that the blissful feeling inside was snatched away.

"You... feel... so good," she grunted, lowering herself onto him once again. "So… good."

Niles smiled. He could feel he was close, but seeing her experiencing such pleasure and hearing her moan and whimper was more than a little incentive for him to try and contain himself.

Instead, he took his fingers to her clit and began to work it with them. His touch elicited a loud moan of pleasure from the blonde, and she could only keep moving and digging her nails into the skin of his chest.

She was exhausted, Niles could tell, but at the same time neither of them wanted it to end. She was finally enjoying something that had been used as a method of torture not so long ago, and he was proud of her; proud of how far she had come.

But eventually, her rocking movements and his fingers on her were more than enough to throw her over the edge. She screamed his name and collapsed on his chest as her inner muscles clenched rhythmically.

Seeing her come was absolutely beautiful for Niles, and he held her as the waves of pleasure hit her one after the other. She was left shuddering in his arms, and for a moment the motions came to an end.

But through the haze of pleasure the notion that Niles hadn't come surfaced in C.C.'s mind – that was unacceptable. She was spent from her intense orgasm, but he wasn't...

And she trusted him. More than anyone else.

"Roll us over," she panted. "Roll us over and take me."

Gasping for air, Niles looked at her; wasn't she too tired? He could just as easily finish things himself if that was the case.

But she looked determined. Determined that they would finish this together.

"Please, Niles..." she moaned again. "Take me, now..."

And he wasn't going to deny her that request. Or demand, as the case may have been.

Holding her by the waist, he gently flipped them, and C.C. let out another delighted yelp as she tumbled onto the mattress and he began to thrust.

He kept the same rhythm as before, not stopping but slowing occasionally to cover her body with kisses, and to loudly proclaim her the most beautiful and sublime woman in all of creation.

But eventually, as the pleasure began to build to an almost excruciating level, his thrusts began to grow stronger, and faster. Was she tightening again, or was his mind just playing tricks on him because his own sense of pleasure was so high, clouding his judgement?

All he knew was that he was almost right on the edge, which became over the edge with a few more expert thrusts. He came then, hard, with her name on his lips and her nails digging into his back.

He was so lost in his own bliss that he barely registered that C.C. had come almost at the same time he did. She clung to him as though he were her lifeline, and she didn't even let go when he rolled them over once again so C.C. was on top.

Even when pleasure was impairing his senses, he knew for a fact that C.C. wouldn't appreciate him lying on top of her, even if to rest for a few seconds. Thus, he rolled them over, but never breaking the connection between them.

For some seconds (or minutes, or hours; they couldn't tell for sure) the only noise that was heard in the room was their laboured breaths. Both of them had their eyes closed, and Niles was brushing a hand up and down her spine while C.C. – whose head was comfortably nestled in the crook of Niles' neck – showered his jaw with soft kisses.

"I love you," C.C. rasped, tightening her hold on Niles.

"So much..." Niles replied, using one of his hands to cradle her head. "So very, very much."

The producer couldn't help the tears – they were happy tears, of course. She had tackled one of her worst traumas, was in the arms of the man she loved and who loved her in return, and had just had the best sex of her entire life.

Wait, scratch that... it hadn't been just sex, it had been _lovemaking_. There was a difference, and she knew it well.

"Don't cry," he whispered, kissing her cheek, his lips occasionally catching a falling tear.

"They are happy tears, Niles," she sniffed. "I am happy because I am free and because I just proved myself that I am strong enough and that my sexual life wasn't permanently ruined by having been… raped."

Niles gasped. It was the first time C.C. had the bravery to admit what had happened to her. To properly say the name of the act, which was something she hadn't been able to do.

"You said it," he looked at her more directly, his hand pausing in its movement.

C.C. blinked at him, thinking it over, "I did, didn't I? I...I guess I can finally openly admit it to myself."

It would still take time before everything was entirely better, they both knew that. She still needed to heal some more, but she would get there. And she was making excellent progress by being able to openly call the act by its name. It didn't make what had happened any less terrible, but it did more than suggest that C.C. wasn't going to let it control and define her life.

She shifted in his embrace, so that her forehead rested against his chin, and Niles angled his head to press his lips to her forehead.

"I'm proud of you, C.C.," he murmured.

And there was so much to be proud of. She'd fought, hard, and she'd survived. The scars she'd picked up along the way may have hurt, but she'd be damned if she let them kill her.

C.C. smiled, "You know something? I'm proud of me, too."

Niles chuckled, and just held her, closing his eyes. C.C. did the same, relishing in the warmth and the safety and the comfort – three things she thought she might never feel again at one stage in her life. But now she'd have them for always.

She'd have him for always.

And with that thought in mind, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Well, this is it, my friends - the last chapter before the epilogue. We want to thank you for all your support and for your reviews (we'd love to hear your feedback of the last two chapters too!). Hope you enjoy these last two chapters.**

 **H &L**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 17_**

 ** _Closure_**

The reporters had been gathered outside the mansion since the early hours of the morning. Niles had seen them from the window when he'd gotten up to start making breakfast. _Absolute vultures_. They'd clearly stationed themselves to get the best possible angle for the perfect shot of C.C. as she made her way to the trial that day.

The time in between Thomas' arrest and today had been odd, to say the least. It was _disconcerting_ in some ways to have to be down the police station a lot of the time, but in many other respects, it was a _good_ odd. C.C. had looked healthier and happier than ever. Not having to worry about being snatched from the street had helped her in ways he couldn't begin to comprehend. He'd felt less reluctant about letting her go places on her own, giving her the freedom she hadn't had in a long time. And they didn't have to hold back so much anymore when they held each other at night, either.

Things were really starting to look up.

And as long as everything went their way at the trial, things would continue to look up.

And he was making a wonderful breakfast for C.C. so that they could start the day off right. Besides, she was going to need all the strength she could get for the day. Being called to give a testimony was going to be difficult, but once it was over, it would be over. The day would still be long, though, with a lot of things to get through before it was done.

Not that he was worried about the outcome. Lane had assured them both that there was more than enough evidence to put Thomas away for a long time. And the Babcocks had paid for the best lawyer money could buy, which would only help matters further.

He stacked some pancakes onto a couple of plates, and put them on a tray with a small jug of maple syrup and some butter. Then the coffee followed that, and he took it gently into his arms to carry it upstairs. The Sheffields had agreed to eat breakfast out that morning, so that Niles and C.C. could eat, get dressed, and get to the court.

He only hoped that promise would last after they'd smelled the pancakes.

C.C. was still asleep when he came into the room, so he settled the tray on his bedside table, and slipped back into bed to wait for her to wake up. It was still reasonably early, so he wasn't going to press her.

But the rustling of the sheets and Niles soft movements as he settled next to her were enough to wake her. Since she had been kidnapped, she was a light sleeper – she couldn't really help it, but she had time and an excellent man by her side to help her change that.

"Morning," she crooned, rolling to her side and facing him. Her lips then curled into a smile when the smell of pancakes wafted to her. "Oh, this is truly a heavenly way to wake up!"

Niles chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. He knew there was no point in telling her to go back to bed – once she was awake, she didn't really like going back to sleep unless she had awoken extremely early – so he simply relished being able to hold her in his embrace.

"You deserve it, love," he pecked her lips. "Although I originally intended to let you sleep some more."

C.C. snuggled closer to him and burrowed her face in the crook of his neck. "Don't fret. I'd rather cuddle for a while than sleep."

Although her tone was airy and seemingly nonchalant, he could easily detect the nervousness underneath it. It was completely understandable; she was going to face her attacker for the first time in almost a year, and she'd have to relieve eight months of torture. He knew she needed to be held and contained, and he was more than happy to provide.

"Well... you know I'd never reject a cuddling session with you," he said, rolling to his back and helping C.C. settle on top, her body sprawled out over his.

C.C. chuckled lightly, and nuzzled her face against him. Today was going to be hard, but she'd get through it with Niles there.

It was more than a thrilling relief to actually get the opportunity to say anything like that. She'd escaped. Her attacker had been caught and was on trial today. She was safe, warm, and comfortable in the arms of the man she loved.

 _She'd won._

And her reward was both underneath her and holding her in his arms, and if she craned upwards just enough, she could see an edible reward on the bedside table.

After so long of having to hoard and ration her food, each and every single time Niles made breakfast, she felt special. And he'd probably tell her that she was special, and she'd blush and put her arms around him...

She couldn't believe how big a sap she'd become for him, but she was glad that she had.

"What are you grinning at?" Niles smirked. He'd watched in fascination as her lips had just suddenly turned upwards in a beaming smile, and he had to know what had caused it. "Did you see the breakfast?"

"No," C.C. replied, tucking some hair behind her ear. "Well, yes, I did, but that wasn't what I was smiling about."

She felt Niles' hands rest on the small of her back.

"Well, I'm certainly intrigued, then," he said. "What was the smile for?"

There wasn't any harm in telling him. She knew that. He just wanted to share in the joy with her. And if this didn't make him feel happy, then she didn't know what would.

"I was thinking about you. And me. And the fact that you make me breakfast," she replied softly. "And how I feel special when you do, even if I'm not feeling particularly special otherwise."

"You _are_ special," Niles said and C.C., just as she had thought she would, blushed.

"Old sap," she muttered against his chest – she had laid her head on it again.

"And yet you love me!"

The producer smiled again and craned upwards to give him a kiss on the lips. She did love him... she loved him very much indeed. He had been essential for both her survival during her captivity and her posterior recovery – his voice had kept her sane, and he was holding her together during her recovery.

What had she done to deserve him?

"Yes I do," she eventually said, rolling off of him. "But now, I believe I want to taste a bit of your love for me."

Niles arched an amused eyebrow as he sat up. "You know that that comment can be interpreted in a number of ways, right?"

C.C. rolled her eyes. "Get your mind out of your gutter, Hazel. As wonderful as morning sex sounds, right now we don't have time for that."

Niles had to bite back a chuckle as he balanced the tray on his lap and passed C.C. her plate and a mug of coffee. It made him incredibly happy to hear her talking about sex with relative ease, both because making love to her was probably his favourite pastime, and also because it meant she was recovering from the trauma, little by little.

Having intimacy would still be challenging for a long, long time, but what mattered was that she trusted him and that she knew he'd give her all the time she needed.

But seeing her tucking into a plate of pancakes that he'd prepared himself was more than enough for the present time.

He'd wondered if he'd ever see her again, let alone be living with her like this. No one was taking it away from them, either. The trial would happen, and they'd be allowed to continue on with their lives. Recovering. Progressing. Living.

He was thankful for the blizzard that had happened that night. It had given her the cover to get away, and had allowed the chance for this to happen. He was thankful that she hadn't lost herself, truly, even in the midst of the horror. And he was most thankful of all that she loved him the way he loved her.

With that thought in his mind, he tucked into his own breakfast, savouring the taste. The sweetness felt like a victory already.

After they were done, he took the tray back downstairs to clean up whilst C.C. took a shower, brushed her teeth, and got dressed. It was his turn in the bathroom when she was done, and he found C.C. fussing about with her makeup as he finished putting on his clothes and doing up his tie, exiting the bathroom at the same time.

"All set, love?" he asked, coming to stand beside her.

C.C. pulled a face at herself in the mirror, her shoulders slumping as she sighed, setting down her lipstick carelessly, "As I'll ever be."

He put a hand on her shoulder, brushing her blouse tenderly with his thumb, "It's going to be alright, sweetheart. You don't have to be afraid of anything."

"I am not afraid," she replied truthfully. "I am overwhelmed, that's all."

He could only think that he understood. She still disliked being anywhere where there were too many people, which was exactly what was going to happen in the court. And there was also the fact of having to see Thomas again and having to tell the jury about the many tortures and humiliations that she had been subjected too.

He held her tighter and dropped kisses along her jaw. "I understand. And I'll be there, alright?"

C.C. turned in his embrace to face him. "I know you will," she rested her head on his shoulder. "I love you."

"And I love you too."

They made their way to the car in silence but holding hands. Luckily Maxwell had lent them the limo to take them to the court and, as it had tainted windows, it would make it harder for the reporters to take any unwanted pictures of her.

And indeed, the moment the car left the garage the cameras went off. It sounded like thousands of little shots were being fired in her direction, and the flashes were blinding. She stared straight ahead the entire time. Niles couldn't help but watch. It seemed that she was trying her hardest to ignore all of the people outside, and he wasn't going to break her concentration if she'd managed to tune them out for now.

He just kept a tight grip on her hand, and once they were on the road and far away from the reporters, he felt her begin to relax again. Not completely, that would more likely come when they were out of the courtroom, everything was over, and they were free to get on with their lives. But it was just enough to let him know that the reporters weren't bothering her anymore.

There wasn't any talking on the way to the court. Niles wanted to allow C.C. all the time she needed to prepare herself. Today was going to be long, and even if he wasn't worried about how things would turn out, it was going to be exhausting on many levels.

He didn't know if he wanted the limo to get there immediately so they could see justice prevail, or if he wanted time itself to slow down so that C.C. had a little more peace before having to go and face it.

C.C. was feeling the exact same way in her silence. She knew that things would be okay. They couldn't not be, when Niles was holding her hand. But at the same time, the thought of having to be there, reliving everything...

If they were lucky, it would only be one day. She'd give her testimony, and that would be it. She'd answer any questions the defence threw at her because she knew what had happened was true, and hopefully that would be enough. If it wasn't, the evidence taken from the house would be.

And then she'd go home. Move on with her life, never once letting go of the man whose hand she was holding.

She tightened her grip on him. The courthouse was in sight.

The press was there, too, but luckily the limo was taken to a private parking lot where Lane and two other police officers were waiting for them. They were to be escorted to the courtroom, where Thomas and his defence already awaited.

"Good morning, Miss Babcock," Lane said as she and Niles slipped out of the limo. By now C.C.'s anxiety levels were through the roof, and it showed. The policewoman shared a look with Niles and the butler immediately curled an arm around C.C.'s waist.

"Morning, Lane," Niles replied for both of them. C.C. wasn't exactly in the mood to talk. "Is everything ready for us?"

"Indeed. The Sheffields and Miss Babcock's parents and lawyers are already in the room, and we have made sure to give you a seat next to C.C.'s at the plaintiffs' table."

The producer was thankful for that. If Niles weren't by her side, she might not have been able to face the trial.

Lane guided them into the courthouse and then into the courtroom. She was impressed by the amount of people inside the room, and she couldn't help but feel slightly overwhelmed. Niles noticed, of course, and he held her closer.

"Just look ahead and walk to your seat, love, you are going to be just fine."

But she couldn't. She hadn't been able to look in the direction of the plaintiff's desk since she had stepped a foot inside the courtroom. Thomas was looking at her, and she couldn't look away from him, either.

Niles held her protectively as he guided her to her seat, never taking his eyes from the man who'd almost taken everything from the both of them.

Thomas' face had healed from the beating it had suffered at their hands, but the butler wouldn't hesitate, even in front of all these officials, to lay into him again if he felt it was necessary. He settled C.C. in her chair, squeezing her hand.

"Don't worry about him, love," he murmured to her and turning his head to face the front. "Show him he's not worth it."

She tried to listen to him. She knew he was right, if she kept on staring it would only let Thomas know how much all of this had impacted upon her. There was probably going to be plenty of time for that, anyway. They were going to be there for hours, and that was only if the trial lasted for just one day. If it didn't...

She finally looked towards the bench. She didn't want to think about it. She just wanted today to be over, and then they'd go from there.

It seemed to be forever until C.C.'s lawyer turned up, even if it had only been a few minutes in reality. Her father had hired him, and he was probably the best person they could hope for on their side in a case like this.

The couple could only hope he was up to the challenge of whatever Thomas' lawyer threw at him.

As the trial began, the prosecution presented an overwhelming amount of evidence to prove Thomas' guilt – from the facial composite to DNA that proved that C.C. had been held inside the cellar.

Lane, being the main investigator, was the first to step on the stand, and she presented the jury with every single detail from the case. Many of these details were unknown to Niles, and C.C. was surprised by how tirelessly the police had looked for her.

She remembered that there had been many sleepless night where she had wondered if there was anyone out there looking for her. At times she had been convinced that they had forgotten about her, but all the evidence and the different testimonies – including Niles', when he was called to testify – proved her wrong.

It was incredible to see just how many people were on her side – all her doctors were there (and they told the jury about the biological and physical evidence of the physical and sexual abuse), her parents, the Sheffields, the team of detectives that had looked for her, a few witnesses that had seen her getting into Thomas' car, her nurses, her therapist, Niles...

She was not alone.

She had never been alone!

She was humbled and grateful for all those wonderful people. But most of all, she was thankful for Niles.

His love made her feel safe, even if the man who had terrorised her sat only a few feet away from her.

"Miss Chastity Claire Babcock, you are called to the stand," the judge said, and C.C. quickly made her way there.

After pledging that she would say the truth and nothing but the truth, she was allowed to sit down. The interrogation was about to begin.

"Miss Babcock," said Mr Williams, Thomas' lawyer. "You were allegedly kidnapped by my client, is this correct?"

"Yes it is," the blonde replied, loud and clear.

"But isn't it true that you willingly went into his car? According to my client he offered you a ride and you accepted."

Silence. The first difficulty. But she knew what she wanted to say.

"Yes. But I only did that because he offered me a ride home," she explained. "When I realised he wasn't heading there, I asked to get out."

"Yet you still put yourself in a situation where you could be vulnerable to a stranger?" Williams was basically accusing her of being at fault for her own kidnapping. "You yourself could have prevented any incident if you had chosen not to get into my client's car that day?"

It all made C.C. want to scream and shout, and she was starting to tremble. She feared she might shriek at the man, before running from the room.

It wasn't her fault...she'd spent so much time coming to terms with the fact that it wasn't...they weren't going to make her go back to thinking it was...

Luckily her lawyer got there first, "Objection, Your Honour. The defence is trying to shift blame onto the victim, and faulting her for her own disappearance and experiences of sexual abuse."

C.C. flinched a little. She might have been willing to admit that that was what happened to her, but hearing about it spoken so matter-of-factly by someone else was a new experience entirely.

She caught Niles' expression across the room. His face appeared to be encouraging.

She could only hope whatever the judge said to the objection was just as encouraging.

"Objection sustained," the judge said. "Mr Williams, please refrain from badgering Miss Babcock."

The lawyer's face screwed up, but he nodded. He gave a few paces as he thought how to phrase his next question and eventually looked back at her.

"Miss Babcock, your lawyer has just mentioned you were abused, would you mind specifying the type of abuse you allegedly suffered at the hands of my client?"

C.C. nodded, keeping her eyes on her lap. "I was emotionally, physically and sexually abused."

"Is there any evidence of this abuse?"

"Yes there is, Your Honour," C.C.'s lawyer piped up. "A number of professionals – including doctors, psychologists and psychiatrists – provided with biological and physical evidence of the abuse."

The judge assented with the head before addressing the defendant's lawyer. "Mr Williams, evidence was provided, please move forward to your next question."

The lawyer frowned. "Your Honour, if you allow me, there was evidence of physical abuse, but there wasn't evidence of sexual abuse."

C.C. flinched. Was he implying...?

"The biological evidence proves that there was sexual intercourse, but not that it was forced. According to my client, Miss Babcock never complained or refused his advances and she even used lingerie when he asked her to," he looked back at C.C., who seemed on the verge of tears. "Isn't it true, Miss Babcock?"

C.C. again looked at Niles. He didn't look quite so encouraging now. If anything, he looked like he could fight Thomas, Williams, and anyone else in the court who decided to stand on their side in this.

Luckily, that was its own form of encouraging. It meant she knew she wasn't completely alone in the room. And her lawyer had been sure to prepare her for such a delicate question.

"It is true that I didn't object," she began. "However, I-"

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury-" Williams cut right across her, prepared to launch into some speech about how there was obviously something apart from a rape going on in that situation.

Again, her own lawyer interrupted, "Objection, Your Honour. The absence of objection on my client's part does not necessarily mean that consent was given."

"Objection sustained," the judge turned to C.C.. "Please, finish answering the question, Miss Babcock."

"Thank you, Your Honour," she took a moment to breathe, before continuing. "I was forced under duress. Both to wear the lingerie and to... _perform intercourse_ with the defendant. I feared that he would kill me if I fought back."

"And why did you fear so, Miss Babcock?" Thomas' lawyer asked.

"Because... because of the physical abuse to which I was subjected," C.C. responded, sounding a bit more sure of herself. Thomas was on the losing end here, not her.

"Could you be more specific?"

For the first time that morning, C.C. looked up at the man who was defending a monster. To her, Williams was just as cruel as Thomas was.

"I was periodically beaten, sometimes for no reason, but mainly when I didn't comply with the defendant's wishes," C.C. spoke, keeping her head held up high. "And one way he used to control me was starvation."

There was an uncomfortable silence in the courtroom, and a murmur arose in the room. She could hear people muttering words such as " _monster_ " or " _psychopath_ " and it encouraged her.

"He would feed me once or twice a week and then I'd go without food for extended periods of time. There were days when I was given a copious meal for I was "behaving" according to my captor, and I'd usually hide some of the food and ration it for the occasions when I was being starved."

And the murmurs worsened, until the whole courtroom was buzzing with the attendants' voices. Her testimony resembled the plot of a horror movie, and many of the people there couldn't believe that one person would do that to another human being.

But Thomas had done that to her, and now he had to pay for that.

The judge banged his gavel, ordering the room to quiet down.

Niles tried to send a soft smile across the room to C.C.. He hoped she could see it, and that it was helping. She was doing so well, he wanted to make sure she knew it.

C.C. did see. But she couldn't smile back. Not after having to remember all of the times she'd been forced to hide slices of apple, knowing they'd be her breakfast in a days' time, or two days, or even longer. Not after thinking about the beatings, which could come at any time of day or night. And especially not when knowing that Williams could use it, the simplest and most innocent of gestures, against her at any time.

"Where did you hide these rations?" the next question came without letting up.

"In various places," C.C. replied, still not breaking her gaze away and something inside her vaguely hoping the crowded room would find the next detail repulsive, too. "Around the cellar he kept me in."

It had its desired effect. The room erupted again. She thought she heard one of her own family shout out and jeer at Thomas from the back of the room. Again, the judge called for silence, and threatened to eject the person who'd done it, if they tried that behaviour once more.

"You were kept in a cellar?"

C.C. nodded, "Yes. For most of the time. There were occasions when I was allowed upstairs, but for the most part, I was kept in that one room."

"Could you describe this room for us?"

He obviously wanted her to give the exact description, or else otherwise fail and thereby admit that she was lying.

But she wasn't lying. This stone-hearted lawyer in front of her was just trying to convince everyone else that she was. Luckily most, if not all of them, seemed to be firmly on her side.

And if there was one thing she was certain of, it's that she wasn't lying about any of it.

"Yes, I can," she nodded. "It was dark for most of the time. There were no windows, even high in the walls, so I never knew what time it was. I had a mattress to sleep on, a table to sit at, a sink and a toilet. There was also a small pile of CDs, and a few books. If I wanted anything else, I had to ask and hope that I would be rewarded it for behaving."

The lawyer made a gargantuan effort not to scowl. She was sorting out every challenge he was throwing her way, and that was clearly miffing him. He had thought he'd be dealing with a weak, traumatised victim, whose will would be feeble and easy to break...

But the woman in front of him was anything but weak.

The forensic evidence against Thomas was crushing, and Williams knew so. His aim had been to convince the jury the rape had actually been consensual sex and that she had stayed because she wanted, and not because Thomas had held her.

He wanted to claim she had been free to go at any given time... but his strategy was failing miserably.

"I see," he said sharply. "But isn't it true that my client provided you with a guitar? And allowed you to use kitchen utensils whenever you were preparing meals?"

"Yes, that is true," C.C. replied without hesitation.

"Then, if you were being held against your will, why didn't you use them to attack my client and escape? You could have surely done so... that is, unless you wanted to stay."

Niles had to force himself not to stalk towards the lawyer and punch him in the face. He didn't need to ruin the trial, even if the bastard deserved it. He looked over at C.C. – the woman was strangely unfazed. She merely took a deep breath and stared at the lawyer.

"Mr Williams, do you know how much I weighted when I escaped?"

It was a rhetorical question, so she didn't even give him time to answer.

"I weighed 92 pounds," she said, staring daggers at Williams. "While the defendant weighed 205 pounds. I was 113 pounds lighter, was weak due to the starvation and pained due to the beatings. Do you honestly think I had the physical capacity to reduce my attacker in such conditions?"

Another murmur went around the court, and C.C. slyly glanced over towards the jury. They all appeared attentive to what she had to say, in the least.

As did Niles, whom she caught a glimpse of when returning to look at Williams again. His expression actually gave the vague impression that when he was finished listening to what she had to say, he might leap over the table and strangle the man questioning her, Thomas himself, and anyone else who tried to stop him.

As amusing as that would have been (minus having to show up again in a court with him as the defendant), she didn't think it was necessary, really. She could do this.

She _had_ to do this. Not just for herself, but for women everywhere who needed to be heard.

Her words seemed to have stopped Williams in his tracks, too. It was almost like the man had never been spoken to in that fashion before. She'd seen his type as a producer – the big man who thought himself so tough that everyone else would just back down automatically.

But she wasn't going to do that. She had never let them have the satisfaction before, and she wasn't going to start now.

She wasn't in danger here. The court was on her side. The jury was taking note of the evidence. Niles was watching from only a few feet away.

She had no reason to be afraid, and she showed it by staring the lawyer down.

Williams himself appeared to be thinking about what to say next, when the judge, sounding rather bored, spoke out.

"Do you have any further questions, Mr Williams?"

The lawyer was started by the judge's voice, and C.C. couldn't help the smirk that spread across her features when she saw him jump.

"Uh... yes, I..."

"Quickly, Mr Williams," the judge insisted, a harder edge to his tone.

The lawyer took a deep breath and glanced back at C.C.. "Yes, Your Honour. I wanted to ask about the aftermath of this supposed kidnapping," he gave a few paces towards C.C., as though being nearer to her would intimidate her.

C.C. scoffed to herself. _Over her dead body_.

"Could you be more specific?" she said, her voice hard and cold.

It had been long since she had felt this way – powerful and in control. She remembered the feeling from the days when she was working as a producer, but since her kidnapping control and power had become foreign to her.

"Did you need any type of medical help?"

"Yes, I did – still do – need medical, psychological and psychiatric care," C.C. replied.

"And isn't it true you have also begun a romantic relationship with Mr Brightmore?" the lawyer made a small pause, his lips twitching into a smirk. "If you were truly traumatised by the experiences in the cellar, how could you so easily resume your romantic life?"

A dread silence for what seemed a long time. Niles appeared to be physically restraining himself at the table by this stage.

And if anyone had asked, that is what he would have told them, without a shred of doubt. The man had no business asking about these things! The worst part was, no one appeared to be intervening to stop it. They were going to make C.C. answer such a humiliating and revealing question and there was nothing he could do to stop it...!

C.C. took in a deep breath, and answered, "Yes, it's true that I am in a romantic relationship with Niles Brightmore. But it is not true that retaking certain aspects, particularly intimate ones, has been easy. I have had a lot of therapy in that regard, and we have simply taken things slowly, without any expectations put on one another."

"Expectations such as?" Williams asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure you can be more specific than that, Miss Babcock."

"Objection, Your Honour," C.C.'s lawyer finally spoke up, and Niles let out a relieved breath. "I fail to see how describing my client's personal life any further will help make a case for the defendant. We are all adults, and thus we are all aware of what Miss Babcock means when she says "expectations"."

"Objection sustained," the judge said. "Mr Williams, if your questions are ongoing, perhaps they could be directed to another topic? One which is relevant to the case at hand, not matters outside of it."

Realising that he couldn't win was causing the most amusing reactions in both Thomas and his lawyer. The two men appeared to be losing their temper as the lawyer's questions were rejected or failed to upset the producer. They clearly weren't expecting C.C. to be so well prepared for the trial.

"Yes, Your Honour," Williams said through his teeth.

"Do you have more questions for Miss Babcock, Mr Williams?" the judge asked once again. By this stage everyone knew Thomas' lawyer had ran out of arguments.

Williams gritted his teeth. "No, Your Honour, no further questions."

"You can return to your seat, Miss Babcock," the judge said, and C.C. was quick to oblige. She had kept her composure during the questioning, but as soon as she stepped down the stand she scurried back to Niles and hid in his embrace, not caring if the people in the court noticed her distress – what is more, she suspected it could help her case.

She observed as her lawyer got to his feet and called Thomas to the stand. Once her kidnapper had sat down on the chair she had been occupying only moments ago, her lawyer, Mr Parker, asked for the recording Niles had taped the night she had first escaped to be played.

Sorrow, pain and fear were seeping through her tone, and something inside ached when she realised just how broken she had sounded. There was no question that that was the voice of a woman who had been abused to an inhuman extent.

Not to mention she had practically said exactly the same words during her interrogation, only now she was better, emotionally speaking.

"Tell me, Mr Jones, does this sound like the voice of a woman who is lying about what you did to her? Doesn't this make you feel ashamed of what you did?"

"I have nothing to be ashamed of, because that woman over there is lying to everyone," Thomas' voice was loud, so everyone could hear. "She is my wife, she knows this, and should come home with me at once."

It sounded like a command. Niles held onto C.C. more firmly. He hoped that the bastard being questioned could see it, too, and know that he would never touch her again.

Parker halted in his pacing, and turned towards Mr Jones, "Your wife? That is what you called my client?"

"That's right," Thomas replied simply.

"And do you have proof of this marriage?" Parker held out his hands, as though gesturing towards something he knew wasn't going to be found. "A marriage licence, or certificate, signed by the both of you, as well as two witnesses?"

C.C. didn't appear to be able to look, but Niles' heart was in his mouth as he watched. This could be the complete changing point for it all. It could wrap everything up, because the man was clearly deranged. No lawyer in the land would be able to defend him if he thought something as fabricated as that were true...

Out of the corner of his eye, even Williams looked like he was ready to give up. Niles couldn't help but wonder if he'd told Thomas to stay away from mentioning that, lest it ruin their case for lack of evidence.

Fortunately, Thomas couldn't keep his mouth shut, it would appear.

His lawyer was on the verge of tearing his hair out – his client was unwittingly revealing information that would land him in jail, and the more he spoke, the more Williams knew what the verdict would be.

He wasn't stupid, Williams knew that Thomas had no way of avoiding going to jail – the physical and biological evidence was devastatingly incriminating – but he'd hoped that Thomas would cooperate and get the jury to give him a shorter sentence. But his client had refused to keep his thoughts to himself – in his mind, he'd done nothing wrong, and Miss Babcock belonged to him.

Even in the different meetings they'd had before the trial, Mr Jones had refused to address Miss Babcock by any other term but "wife". He truly thought he was married to her, and Williams had suspected this would surface in the trial.

And surfaced it had… despite his advice, Thomas just wanted to do things his way.

"There isn't a written proof, I admit," Thomas said, appearing uninterested – as though what he was saying was the most normal thing in the entire world.

"Then how can you claim that Miss Babcock is your wife?" Parker continued. "If there is no proof-"

"Yes there is!" Thomas remonstrated. "We had a wedding night!"

"Your Honour-" Williams tried to interject but his client held out his hand to stop.

"I will speak my mind, Mr Williams," the kidnapper snarled.

The lawyer gave the judge an almost pleading look, but the magistrate couldn't care less. He motioned for Williams to sit down and let his client talk.

"You were saying, Mr Jones?" Parker addressed the defendant, barely able to conceal how pleased he was – the man was digging his own grave.

"I said we had a wedding night – we consummated the marriage, making it completely valid."

"But there is no proof that a wedding ever took place," Parker continued. "An act of sexual intercourse – forced, I might add – does not prove that a wedding happened. It does not make you my client's husband."

Thomas stared at him, as though confused by what he had just said. It was as though he was speaking a foreign language.

Niles could feel the tight grip of C.C.'s hand on his own. This was what it all came down to. But there was glee in his mind as well – there was no way the bastard was going to get out of this. His insistence despite the overwhelming evidence against him was more than enough...

This wasn't so much a trial as a crucifixion. And that was the least Thomas deserved.

"But I _am_ her husband," Thomas insisted again.

"Mr Jones, I am going to ask you once more," Parker tried again, looking over at the jury as though he himself couldn't believe what was being said. "Where is your proof that you are married to my client? And I am not referring to intercourse-related activities. I am asking for a marriage license, a certificate signed by two independent witnesses. Even a wedding ring!"

Thomas stared at him, "We never bought rings. Why would she need a ring? She never left the house."

The man had to be dead in the water by that stage, Niles thought. He might as well just admit to the beatings and the starvation, too.

Parker was barely containing his own delight at the easiest won case in history as he continued, "So you kept her in your house and never let her leave, am I correct in assuming that that is what you are telling me, Mr Jones?"

"She is my wife, why would she have to leave?" Thomas asked. "She is supposed to cook my meals and clean my home. She has no other purpose."

Niles couldn't believe that his Babcock had been reduced to just that – a maid with which that bastard had done as he'd pleased. He sometimes forgot just how terrible and painful her kidnapping had been, and hearing that bastard talk was like being repeatedly slapped in the face.

He glanced at C.C. – her jaw was set and he could tell she was trying very hard not to cry. He knew she was reliving the darkest moments of her life, and that had to be hard.

It took a brave and strong woman to be able to beat that.

The jury was clearly just as horrified as Niles, and judging by their expressions – which ranged from disgust to pure, unadulterated hatred – he knew what their verdict would be.

He only lamented New York didn't have the death penalty.

"Mr Jones, my client made it perfectly clear she wanted to leave and yet you didn't let her," Parker said, crossing his arms and beginning to pace. "You were clearly holding against her will."

"It didn't matter what she wanted," Thomas offered, leaning back in his chair. "She is mine and she doesn't have a say. Her reason of being is serving me."

Niles was on the verge of snapping again, and he could only hold C.C. close. The woman was unconsciously curling up into a ball on her chair, and her eyes were glazed over.

He wanted to take the pain away, but now he could only offer support.

"So you actually admit having held her against her will in an underground cellar?" Parker asked.

"It was her room – I was kind enough to give her a room with a bed, a bathroom, a table and a drawer."

"But was it underground?"

"Yes, it was," Thomas answered, not at all sounding ashamed of himself, or like something could potentially be wrong. "She didn't need to be upstairs all the time, in the light. Someone could have seen her."

"Why didn't you want anyone to see her, Mr Jones?" Parker continued his questioning. "Surely, if she was your wife, then you would want to inform people that you were married and allow them to meet her."

"No one needs to meet her," Thomas snapped. "She is mine and mine only. Other people would just get in the way. That's why I declared us married and no one else can!"

There was an uproar in the court that the judge had to silence. Niles held C.C. as tightly as he could. This had to be over soon, surely there wasn't any more evidence that was needed...

The jury were looking at Thomas with such disapproval, that the butler could have sworn they'd each have happily put him in jail by now. Even Parker was looking like this was no longer fun for him. He'd more than earned his pay for this case, that was for certain. Thomas wasn't going anywhere other than a cell for a very long time.

And it would be fitting, too, to have him being held against his will.

"Mr Parker," the judge intervened. "I think we can safely wrap up this session of questions now. Perhaps we can move on to your closing statement, if you have one, and then the jury can retire to debate on this case."

"Thank you, Your Honour," the lawyer said. He then dismissed Thomas and the defendant was taken back to his seat.

Niles was glad when he noticed that the guards forced him to sit down just a bit too forcefully.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Parker began once again, facing the jury. "Given the testimony that you have just heard and all the evidence presented in this trial, I think we can all agree that Thomas Jones is guilty of all the horrid crimes he's been charged with," the lawyer moved towards C.C., who had her face hidden in Niles' neck and was holding him for dear life. "This man – if he can we called that way – victimised Miss Babcock; she dehumanised and his abuse knew no limits. Yet this strong woman escaped, and I think it's out duty to give her the justice she deserves. It's our duty to imprison the monster that Mr Jones is so Miss Babcock can have her peace."

Niles could only agree with the lawyer – not only Thomas deserved to rot in a cell, but C.C. also deserved peace. She deserved to be able to go out knowing that she was safe and that the son of a bitch who had hurt her was being properly punished and would never come for her again.

The jury soon retired to deliberate and the people present in the room (except Thomas, who was taken to a small adjoining room while his fate was decided) were allowed to take a small break.

"Miss Babcock?" Parker said, approaching her seat. "Do you want me to get you anything? Some tea? Coffee? A snack?"

He had noticed her distress, and she was thankful that he was trying to help in any way he could. But her stomach was tied in a knot, and she only wanted it to be over.

But on the other hand... a coffee sounded okay.

"I'd like a coffee, thank you," she said and Parker wandered towards a small side table which had a small thermos lying on top of it.

Meanwhile, Niles had taken to brushing his hand up and down her back.

"You are doing great, love, we are almost there," he muttered.

C.C. nodded, "Yeah...yeah...almost there."

She took the small cup of coffee from Parker gratefully, and sipped it slowly. The trial would be over as soon as the jury came back and delivered their verdict. If the evidence was enough, and by God, she hoped it was enough, they'd rule in their favour.

It seemed like an age until the jury filed back in, but Niles checked his watch. It had only been fifteen minutes, at the most. As the judge resettled himself, the couple couldn't help but notice the long, lingering stare he gave to Thomas.

There was something oddly satisfying about knowing that the judge would get some satisfaction from seeing them win their case, too. They didn't know how many trials he'd presided over, over the years, but there must have been a good feeling in him when he saw justice take place.

But they did wish that Thomas was directing his glare at anywhere other than them. Niles wrapped his arm firmly around C.C., making sure the other man knew that he wasn't going to put his hands on her again.

"Just stare straight ahead," he murmured gently. "He's not there. He's nothing."

C.C. understood. She couldn't let Thomas know he was having any impact.

 _But it was so hard..._

That was why it was a relief for her, when the judge finally called the session back and addressed the head juror.

"Has the jury reached its verdict?"

The woman rose, hands folded neatly in front of her, "We have, Your Honour. And we unanimously find the defendant guilty, on all charges."

And suddenly, it was like a weight had been lifted from C.C.'s chest. It was as though these past year and a half she had been submerged underwater, hands and feet tied and slowly running out of oxygen.

In a sense, the feeling of freedom she was experiencing was the same that one would have after getting out of the sea after having been tossed around by the waves. There had been a time when she'd felt trapped in the middle of the raging sea, being dragged down by the current and knowing that she had no way of reaching safety...

But she had escaped – she'd been able to reach the coast, and now she was safe in the arms of the love of her life.

This experience had showed that there was still a long way until she'd completely recovered, but the monster who had done this to her would be locked up.

Hopefully, for a long, long time.

And speaking of that, C.C. had been so wrapped up in the newfound feeling of freedom that she'd barely heard the few words that the judge had exchanged with the head juror when he asked for what sentence they recommended.

But now the judge had made up his mind, and he was about to pronounce the sentence.

"Please, stand, Mr Jones," the judge ordered, and Niles and C.C. observed how a completely stunned Thomas was forced to his feet by two guards.

The man was completely shocked by the verdict, as though he hadn't expected to be found guilty.

Well... he was in for a nasty surprise, it seemed.

"In my thirty five years of experience," the judge began, glaring at the defendant. "I had never, and I mean never, meat such a despicable man as yourself. I had never met such a cruel, deranged and sadistic offender as you, Mr Jones. Not only the evidence incriminates you, but so do your words and yet you have no remorse for what you did whatsoever. Therefore, this court will concur with the jury's sentence and hereby sentences Thomas Jones to life imprisonment without parole for the kidnapping, rape and abuse of Miss Chastity Claire Babcock."

"What?" even now, Thomas seemed confused.

"You shall be taken from this place, to begin serving your time at the Sing Sing Correctional Facility," the judge continued without stopping to answer the man.

He banged his gavel once more, and began to gather his things.

 _It was over_. At long last, it was all over.

Thomas didn't seem to think so, though. He continued to scream and fight as the police officers dragged him away.

"No! You'll see!" he was clearly out of his mind. "You'll all see, she is mine! And I will be bac-"

His rant was interrupted by the door that slammed behind him as his guards hauled him from the room, and at last C.C. allowed herself to breathe. She collapsed against Niles, turning her face in towards his shirt and inhaling his scent. It was warm, and it was comforting.

And she needed all the comfort she could get, right then.

Niles hugged her tight, resting his cheek against the top of her head. His own breathing was laboured, too. They both needed a few minutes to gather themselves, without talking, before Parker came over from thanking the judge and the clerk of the court (as well as trying to show the disgruntled lawyer with his head in his hands at the other table that there were no hard feelings).

They had to rise to their feet, then. They held onto one another as they did, and Niles stuck out his hand for Parker to shake.

"Thank you, so very much," he said. "You've helped us in ways you can't even begin to imagine."

"There's no need to thank, Mr Brightmore; it was my pleasure," Parker smiled, grasping his hand firmly. "The pair of you deserve all the rest and relaxation you can get, now. He's not coming back."

C.C. nodded, a few tears streaming down her cheeks.

The knowledge that she was entirely free was overwhelming her, but it felt incredibly good.

She'd been living in fear for too long, and finally the nightmare had come to an end. Her kidnapper would spend the rest of his miserable life in jail and she and Niles would be able to start building a future together.

She was still broken in many ways, but the important thing was that she was slowly healing and getting stronger. And Niles was there, too, to hold her together when she couldn't do it by herself.

He would always be there... she knew that.

They said their goodbyes to her lawyer and then to the judge, but just before C.C. left the courtroom, the magistrate called her. As soon as she reached his desk, the judge held out his hand for C.C. to shake.

"You are a formidable woman, Miss Babcock, and giving you justice had been an honour and a privilege," the judge said as they shook hands.

"Thank you, Your Honour," the producer muttered and returned to Niles' embrace so they could head back to the limo.

The press hadn't cleared out by the time she and Niles were back into the car and beginning their way back home – they could see Parker and Williams giving interviews to different journalists at the entrance to the courthouse, and some of the journalists actually chased the limo to get some extra pictures as they shouted their questions.

Neither Niles nor C.C. cared about them, though. Niles only cared about holding C.C. close, and the latter just wanted to be held by him.

She was safe in his arms; she was safe with him. She had a long way to go, but if he was by her side, then she wasn't afraid of anything.

She truly had to thank this man for too many things...

The thought only brought tears to her eyes – tears of relief. And so, after an emotional and overwhelming day, C.C. finally broke down into loud sobs.

Niles could only shush her, and hold her tight, stroking her hair and her back, "It's alright. Let it all out...you've been so brave..."

So cry she did. She let out everything she possibly could – all the pain, and all the bad memories and nightmares that she'd endured. They were all over. They weren't coming back, and now she could start looking forward to moving forward.

She'd cry for different reasons, soon enough; she'd build memories that would create so much bright light to her that it would banish the darkness completely. It would hurt, for a time. She knew that. But the source of the pain was gone forever. And she knew she was healing, which wouldn't take forever. This crying was healing – it was freeing. All the hurt was washing away, and the relief coming through.

She could actually feel the happiness coming back. And it felt good. Almost as good as having Niles hold her like he was.

They'd be exhausted by the time they made it back to the mansion, emotionally and physically drained by everything they'd been through. But it was worthy price for their peace of mind. For her freedom.

Neither one was hungry, even though they hadn't eaten in hours. Instead, they went straight to their bed, changing into their pyjamas and slipping under the covers to hold one another. It was better than dinner.

They didn't talk – they didn't have to. The feeling of their arms around each other, and the knowledge that it wasn't going away ever again, was enough.

At one point in her life, C.C. had thought she'd never have this. She'd dreamed of it practically every night, lying down on the dirty mattress in that cold cellar – a warm pair of arms, a broad chest, and a kind voice...having it all for real seemed like a wish come true.

She hadn't heard the voice in her head once since she'd been back with him. She hadn't needed to. She had all of him, and she was so thankful for it. She couldn't help but feel guilty for the way she'd yelled at him before storming out of the hospital. He knew how sorry she was, but still.

Now that they had the rest of their lives to build a real future, slowly and surely, she was going to make sure that he knew just how much she valued him.

Just like he had done – and would continue to do every day – for her.

But although words weren't needed, they weren't a waste, either.

"Niles?" she said quietly as she tightened her grip on him. "I love you."

He looked into her eyes and smiled. "And I love you, too."

They felt silent once again, but both of them knew in their hearts, that if they were together, all would be well.


	19. Chapter 19

**_Epilogue_**

She could hear the patter of tiny feet against the wooden floorboards and a beaming smile slowly made its way across her lips. This, C.C. had come to realise, was one of the best ways to be woken up.

Moments later, the door of the master bedroom creaked open and those tiny feet rushed towards – and consequently jumped to – her bed. As she usually did, she kept her eyes shut tight and pretended to be asleep – if her son wanted her to be awake, he knew what he had to do.

"Mommy?" the small, four year old whispered, crawling to her side and wounding his arms around her neck. After a few moments of silence from her part, the child stamped a kiss on her cheek. "Good morning Mommy!"

"Good morning, sweetheart," C.C. crooned, taking her son in her arms and bathing his little face – the face that reminded her so much of her husband's – in kisses.

Usually, she'd let her child lie down on her torso, but her protruding baby bump made it impossible. Hope was to be born in just three months, so for now Morgan had to content himself with lying against her side.

"Is my sister coming today?" Morgan asked, snuggling against her side and hiding his face in the crook of her neck. "I wanna meet her already."

C.C. chuckled. Morgan couldn't wait to become an older brother – as a matter of fact, he had asked Niles to help him write down a list of things that big brothers were supposed to do.

"Not yet, Honey," she replied, just relishing the feeling of being able to hug her son close. She'd actually had a great night's sleep and this was the best possible start to a new day. "We have to wait a few more months."

Morgan's brow furrowed. "But she is been in your belly for so long already! Can't you tell her to come here faster?"

"Babies get to decide when they're born, Morgan, not their mommies."

"Oh," Morgan bit his lip, thinking. "How do they know? And when do the mommies find out?"

C.C. chuckled. Her little boy was a fine investigator of everything, and curious about things which weren't always his business.

Just like his father, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Well, they have to have been in their mommies for a long time," she explained. "And the mommies know when a long time has passed, and so do the daddies. And, speaking of daddies, where's your daddy? Is he making breakfast?"

"Mm-hm," Morgan nodded.

"Could you see what it was?"

Her question was answered with a shake of her little boy's sandy head. Whatever Niles had been preparing at the counter, he couldn't see. It was obviously going to be a surprise.

She stroked his hair softly and smiled, "Alright. We'll just have to wait and see, then."

"Like with my sister!" Morgan exclaimed.

"That's right, honey, like with your little sister," C.C. replied looking down at her son. It still amazed just how much he looked like Niles... his factions were all from his side of the family, but Morgan's eyes were a trait he had inherited from her. They were a darker shade of blue than her husband's.

 _Husband…_

It was still strange to use that word.

There was a time in her life when she had been repulsed by the idea of being married to someone and of the terms _husband_ and _wife_ , but luckily for her, that was in the past. Both she and Niles had come a long, hard way, and they had finally left the horror behind.

She remembered that Niles had proposed to her a few months after Thomas' trial, and although she had been somewhat afraid, she had accepted. Of course he hadn't pressured her to get married, and he had always told her she could take all the time she needed. They had been engaged for two years when she had gotten pregnant with Morgan, and she had finally decided to get married in a small civic ceremony near the end of her first pregnancy.

She hadn't been ready for a big wedding right then, but she had felt ready to call Niles her husband.

And as it so happened, marriage and motherhood suited her outstandingly well. For the longest of times the fear of not being a good mother and spouse had been there, lurking in the shadows, but as years had gone past, she had slowly tackled those fears, too. Morgan was a precious child – he was loving, smart and kind-hearted, and C.C. simply couldn't imagine her life without her son and her husband.

Morgan had also been the ring bearer when she and Niles had gotten married in a big, religious ceremony last year. C.C. had come up with the idea after Grace had gotten married – Grace's marriage had made C.C. feel the need and the desire to have a religious ceremony that would forever bind her to Niles.

Well… they had been bound together for years now, but it was nice to have made it official in a big, lush ceremony.

It didn't take long for them to want a second child after their second wedding, and that's how Hope had come to be.

But marrying Niles and enlarging her family hadn't been the only projects C.C. had been working in – the engagement she had that night was proof of this.

When she had first escaped from her kidnapper's home, Bort had encouraged C.C. to write her experiences as a mean of catharsis, and she had taken to writing like a fish to water. Before she had realised it, she had written a book of her months as a prisoner, and it didn't take long for her to receive offers from publishers.

She had refused them for a very long time – she hadn't wanted the public to know what had happened to her nor the extent of the violence to which she had been exposed to. But on the fifth anniversary of her kidnapping, something inside her had shifted.

She no longer feared talking about her experience nor about how she had escaped. What's more, she felt proud – proud because she had showed everybody that, even after going through hell, she had been able to move on and rebuild her life.

She had a husband, a beautiful son, and a baby girl on the way. She had won, and she wanted everyone to know.

The book became a best-seller as soon as it was published. People wanted to know about the famous kidnapped producer and how she had overcome her demons, and C.C. began to receive thousands of letters who praised her for her bravery and will to live. She had been invited to talk shows, given interviews and speeches, participated in charities…

And so, C.C. had become an advocate of women's rights and a prominent activist against domestic violence, founding many charities to support the creation of shelters for women escaping abuse or to provide the victims with financial and legal assistance as well as counselling. After being an abused woman herself, she had vowed to help those who were in her same situation and had no way of escaping their abusers, like she had.

After much thinking (and many offers from different directors) she had sold the movie rights to her story, and tonight she was to attend the premiere alongside her husband. Naturally, their boy wasn't going to attend, but he didn't know that yet!

He'd go to his grandparents' for the evening, and they'd pick him up the next day. He'd spend time being treated – spoiled – by Stewart and B.B., and not have to worry about what they were going to do. He didn't need to know about what had happened to her. At least, not in that kind of detail. And at his age, he was hardly ready to hear, let alone understand what had gone on.

That was going to be a difficult conversation one day, but she had built her life on difficult conversations. She'd know what to do when the time came – she nearly always did – and Niles would be there to help if she wasn't able to finish.

That was one of the reasons she loved him so much. He truly was always there, even if only in her thoughts and feelings.

And that was why there was no better person to dedicate her book to. He'd been more than touched when he'd opened up the first published copy, to find that the acknowledgement was for him, and him alone.

He deserved it. There was no one else on Earth that she could really thank for a gift such as pure, unconditional love. Not like this, anyway.

There had been plenty of tears in the house that night. And plenty of _showing_ the extent of that love, too, but that was a whole different story.

She was actually smiling to herself about that particular evening when the door opened and the man she had just basically been fantasising about walked in, carefully balancing a tray in his arms.

"Daddy!" Morgan exclaimed, sitting up and leaning against the mound of pillows stacked behind him. "Mommy wanted to know what you made for breakfast."

Niles smirked at his wife and son. "She did, didn't she? I've brought her pedigree, as usual," he joked, eliciting a giggle from Morgan and causing C.C. to roll her eyes at him. Their son was still too young to understand their sense of humour, but he did realise that the playful insults were just a token of his parents love.

"But Daddy, you have pancakes there! Not doggy food!" Morgan said, pointing at the tray laden with three empty plates, a little jug filled with maple syrup and a fourth plate stacked with pancakes.

"Don't worry, Morgan," C.C. cooed, wrapping her arms around her child and pulling him to her as he giggled like mad. "Daddy is old, and he sometimes he gets confused."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Niles teased back, resting the tray on his bedside table and helping C.C. sit up – her belly made it hard for her to move on her own.

"Me? Pfft," C.C. waved a dismissive hand. "Not only I am younger than you, but I also made it to Maxim's 100 hottest women a few years ago, if you don't remember."

"God knows why..." Niles passed her a mug of coffee and a plate. "You probably paid the editor!"

"Hey!" Morgan exclaimed, his brow furrowed. "Mommy is beautiful! You always tell me she is the most beautiful woman in the world!"

C.C. smirked up at Niles, "Looks like someone has competition for World's Biggest Gossip."

Her husband seated himself on his side of the bed, and passed a plate of smaller pancakes to Morgan, before murmuring to their son, "What are you doing to me, little man? You're ruining my reputation!"

The little boy giggled. He wouldn't fully understand what his father meant just yet, but he understood that Niles was joking around with him. He tucked into his pancakes, and Niles ruffled his hair before grinning up at C.C..

"You know what I mean, don't you, love?"

His wife stabbed up a forkful of soft, fluffy pancake, "I've known you long enough to know everything that you mean. You're not as mysterious as you like to think you are."

"Well, darn, I'd built my entire personality around being mysterious," Niles smirked. "I suppose I'll just have to settle for being the utterly predictable but also completely handsome and charming man that you married."

C.C. pointed her fork at him, "Now, the real mystery is where you get the idea that you're handsome and charming."

"You tell Aunt Fran that Daddy's a charmer all the time on the phone, Mommy," came the little voice in between them between bites of pancake. "And you say you wouldn't have it any other way. And you say he's handsome in a way that you like."

Niles nearly choked on his pancakes, and C.C. flushed crimson.

"Morgan, I thought you were on my side!" C.C. said to her son, her gaze glued to her pancakes. "We were supposed to be a team!"

"But I don't wanna be in a team against Daddy!" Morgan protested as his father helped him drizzle some more maple syrup on his breakfast.

"Well, he does know whose side is better," Niles piped up, smirking. "He clearly wants to team up with-"

"I don't wanna team up with any of you," Morgan giggled. "I love you both and I don't have a favourite."

Both parents felt their hearts melt at their son's words.

Ever since he was a baby, he'd been charming, as well as becoming sincere as he learned to talk. It suited him, his parents thought, and would probably serve him well when he was older, especially. But for now, it was just adorable, and made them proud to have such a good little boy that they could call their own.

Beaming down at him, C.C. reached out and grasped her son's hand.

"You do have your father's way with words, I must admit," C.C. said.

"And you have your mother's brains," Niles added, ruffling the little boy's hair.

Their boy was truly a wonder. They were thankful for being blessed with such a son.

"Thank you Daddy; thank you Mommy," he took a bite of his pancakes and was thoughtful for a few moments. "Mommy, can we do something fun today? I've been behaving really well!"

"I know you have, sweetie," C.C. said, stroking her son's hair. "And that's why you will spend the evening at Grandpa Stewart and Grandma B.B.'s house!"

Morgan's face brightened. "Really?! And are you coming too?"

C.C. grimaced. "Well... not really, sweetie. Daddy and I have to go to a grown-up even tonight."

Morgan looked up at her curiously, "A grown-up event?"

"Yes, son," Niles joined in, figuring that this was going to take some delicacy explaining and wanting to help his wife shoulder the burden. "It's something for grown-ups to know about, but kids don't have to worry about."

"Like what?" the little boy blinked.

Niles glanced up at C.C., and she frowned back. She didn't want to have to explain anything like this to their son. Not yet, anyway.

"Well, you know that Mommy wrote a book, right?" she stepped in, waiting for Morgan to nod before continuing. "Well, a big group of grown-ups are gonna get together and talk about it. And Mommy and Daddy have to be there."

"Oh," Morgan bit his lip, before returning to his pancakes. "Okay."

They breathed a sigh of relief. They'd managed to talk themselves out of it for now, most likely by making the whole event sound boring to a child. Morgan knew about the book, but he had no idea what was in it, much less that any of it was real.

That was something to be talked about on another day.

"And it'll go on way past your bedtime," Niles nudged him. "So you're gonna have fun with Grandma and Grandpa, and we'll come and get you tomorrow morning."

"Alright, Daddy," the child said, taking another bite of his pancakes. "I love going to Grandpa and Grandma's house anyway."

"And I am sure you are going to have a great time together," C.C. added before giving her son a kiss on the crown of his head. "Now finish your breakfast and go brush your teeth! If you want, we can go to the park!"

That was enough for Morgan to finish his breakfast in record time and practically dash away towards his bedroom. Their son, just like C.C., was fiercely independent and he liked doing things without help. He had asked Niles and C.C. to teach him how to comb his hair, get dressed and brush his teeth so he could do it by himself and without asking for help.

It still amused Niles just how much like C.C. Morgan was.

Knowing their son, Niles and C.C. were quick to finish their breakfast, too. Then they both went about their morning routine – brushing their teeth, getting dressed, combing their hair, etcetera – as fast as they could and barely had time to rest before Morgan was back in their room asking to be taken to the park.

Both Niles and C.C. enjoyed their outings as a family, but for C.C. they had the added bonus of providing a sense of freedom. Years ago she hadn't been able to leave her home due to the danger of being taken by a monster, while today she had nothing to worry about but enjoying the day with her husband and kid.

Granted, now that she was pregnant she couldn't play with Morgan so much, but she was always glad to watch as both Niles and Morgan enjoyed the day in the swings, the sand box or the slide.

And enjoy watching them, she did. From her seat on the bench, she watched as Niles pushed their son ever higher on the swings, built castles and towers and other structures with him in the sand box, and caught him up in his arms as he glided down the slide.

She couldn't help but chuckle at her son's peals of squealing laughter as Niles lifted him and spun him around, before holding him close and hugging the little boy tightly. It was a marvellous sight to see, and to enjoy. Just her and her family, in a little park, taking in the fresh air and having fun.

She was thankful for it. For the opportunity to have this kind of freedom again. For the love and the family that her husband had given her. For the life that she'd managed to keep, through the worst experiences a human being could have.

She caught her husband's eye across the space which separated them, and he grinned. She knew he was thankful, too. For just as much as she was. And he was going to be there with her throughout the rest of their lives, because he'd fought just as hard in his own way for her to keep on surviving.

And survive she did. She'd won the war, and now she could rest.

And that rest came with love, togetherness, and comfort. She had her family, and even though evil, despicable things had happened to her, what had happened in the past were not going to dictate what happened in her future.

She decided that.

The time for survival had passed over her.

Now was the time for _living._

They were in the park up until lunchtime, when they returned to their home and Niles cooked them lunch. Now that his wife had taken maternity leave, preparing her and their son lunch had become part of his daily routine, and it was probably one of his favourite parts of the day.

Before she had gotten pregnant with Hope, C.C. would usually leave the house early in the morning for the Sheffield mansion and return in the afternoon. Seeing as Morgan was still too young to go to a day-care and also because they didn't want to hire a nanny, Niles took care of Morgan and the house while C.C. was at work.

Having her in the house was truly more entertaining, and it gave them the opportunity to do more as a family. Money was not a concern for them (C.C. had always had a considerable fortune, and the royalties of her book and had only incremented it) so they could just enjoy the days together with no worries.

As usual, both Morgan and C.C. took their daily nap on the couch, and Niles only awoke them when it was time for C.C. to start getting ready for the premiere.

While his wife got dressed, put on her make-up and did her hair, Niles helped Morgan prepare his backpack with all the things he'd need to take to his grandparents' home. He had already put on his tux, so it was only fair that he attended to their son while C.C. got ready.

"Are you ready to go, Little Man?" Niles asked Morgan, helping her put on his backpack.

"Super ready!" the boy chirped. "And you?"

"Me too, son," Niles replied with a smile.

"And what about Mommy?"

"I am ready too, Morgan," C.C. interjected as she breezed into the room.

Niles had to make an effort not to faint right there. She was gorgeous! Her floor-length, midnight-blue, princess cut dress favoured her pregnant figure and she had also chosen to leave her short, blonde hair loose. She was wearing a diamond pendant and matching diamond earrings – he had gifted them to her on their first anniversary as a married couple.

"Well, boys, how do I look?"

Morgan looked up at her and beamed, "Mommy, you look so pretty!"

He ran over to her, and, seeing as C.C. couldn't kneel very well to hug him, Niles helped out by picking Morgan up so he could put his arms around her neck.

"Well thank you, Morgan!" she smiled, and gently kissed his cheek, before smirking at her husband. "And does the older gentleman of the house have anything to say?"

Niles gave her his usual lop-sided grin, "I think our son summed it up perfectly."

C.C. raised an eyebrow at him, and shared a grin. They both knew he had some things he wanted to add, but they couldn't be said in front of Morgan.

They'd have to wait. And they did have a night to themselves after the premiere was over...

"My two gentlemen," C.C. said proudly. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

She did, really. But they weren't going to talk about that. She slipped out of Morgan's embrace, and stroked his hair, giving both her husband and child an encouraging smile.

"But speaking of places to be," she said, "if we're all set, we should be going."

"To Grandma and Grandpa's house?" Morgan asked, squirming in his father's arms.

"Yes, sweetie. You will stay there and we'll pick you up tomorrow, okay?" C.C. said, taking her purse and walking towards the door, Niles trailing behind her.

"And behave, okay?" Niles added.

"I always behave with Grandma and Grandpa," Morgan replied matter-of-factly.

Niles and C.C. shared an amused look. Of course he behaved, but it was almost impossible for him to misbehave, too. Stewart and B.B. allowed Morgan to do whatever he wanted, so there weren't any real opportunities for Morgan to throw a tantrum or something of the sort.

C.C. knew they were making up for the lost time with her, and she truly appreciated it.

"We know you do, Little Man," Niles put Morgan back on the floor as they made it downstairs. "Now get to the car while I help mommy get there and put on her seatbelt, okay?"

"Sure, Daddy!"

Morgan dashed away to the car, excitement practically oozing from him. He truly loved going to his grandparents'.

After Niles had helped C.C. into the car and put on her seatbelt, he helped buckle Morgan into his seat. Finally, he got into the driver's seat and turned on the engine. Luckily, B.B. and Stewart lived only ten minutes away, so after a short stop at their house and after giving Morgan his goodnight kisses, the couple continued to the movie theatre.

The press were already all there, and before they got to approach the theatre, the car having slowed, an attendant approached them and offered to drive them up to the red carpet. So Niles, feeling rather grateful, helped C.C. onto the back seat before climbing in with her.

The attendant took them right to the edge of the entrance, the scarlet carpet leading up to the doors of the theatre flanked by the press. A few of the stars were already there, having their pictures taken, and as the car slowed to a halt the door was opened by another attendant. Camera flashes immediately went off around them, and Niles got out first so that he could help C.C. to stand.

They were immediately bombarded by requests from the gathered reporters – for photos (complete with directions they wanted them to face), for interviews, for a few minutes of their time to do something or other, but they ignored them for the most part. They'd already agreed not to speak to the press.

A few photos were in order, but that was it.

They made their way along, catching up with other attendees as they went. C.C.'s book had been such a hit, the movie adaptation had required only the top stars to take on the roles. C.C. had practically had her pick when it came to casting, which the producers insisted she should have a hand in as it was her story.

She'd developed a good friendship with the actress who had been picked, and she could see the other woman down near to the entrance, having obviously just finished taking her share of photos.

C.C. tugged on Niles' arm and indicated with her head to make him look, and he smiled as she waved.

"Emma!" she called out.

The other woman caught sight of her and waved back gleefully.

"Good evening, Ms. Thompson," Niles greeted her as they got closer, heading for the doors into the theatre. "Almost show time!"

"Indeed! And I must say, it has been years since I had seen so many reporters huddled together!" Emma gave C.C. a one-armed hug. "I am honoured to be here, if I am being honest."

C.C. smiled at the actress – the two of them had shared many hours together and C.C. had given her extensive information about her months as a prisoner to help Emma build her character. Needless to say, they had created a bond. But, if she was being honest, that was to be expected due to the nature of the information that had been shared.

Emma Thompson was known for her reluctance to lose weight for roles, but given the delicate nature of the film and that the weight loss was actually important to give the character reality, she had agreed to lose a rather substantial amount of weight for the role. C.C. appreciated that she had made the exception for her movie, and she had made sure to express her gratitude to the actress.

Another actor with whom C.C. had adored working with, was Sam Neill, who'd played Niles. Both he and Emma had learnt about her and Niles' relationship before and after the kidnapping. Sam had actually spent a lot more time with Niles, but C.C. appreciated him all the same.

She had also enjoyed sharing time with Meryl Streep, who'd played B.B. Babcock, and Hellen Mirren, who was chosen for the role of Detective Lane. Her brother had been played by Michael McKean, her father by Robert Culp and Fran and Max had been played by Fran Drescher and Charles Shaughnessy respectively.

Funnily enough, people said the resemblance between the Sheffields and Charles and Fran was outstanding, but C.C. didn't really see it...

The important part was that they'd all done a wonderful job.

And now they were all gathered, and someone opened the doors to the theatre, calling out that it was nearly time for the movie to begin so everyone should take their seats. They bade farewell to Emma for the time being, promising to catch up afterwards, and Niles escorted C.C. into the theatre, where they took their seats just before the director stood up to say a few words.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he began, waiting for the last few rows of journalists at the back to settle down before continuing. "And welcome, to the world premiere of "Little Talks". No small amount of courage went into a production like this – it would be just as easy to pretend things like this didn't happen to people. But our own beloved author, who consulted with us to write the script from her memoir, showed us all the true meaning of the word by sharing her experiences, unashamedly, with the world. She fought bravely, and even though the account might have been harrowing in many ways, we were more than morally obliged to do her story justice. We can only hope that we have. Thank you."

He retook his seat to polite applause, and the house lights darkened, signalling that the film was about to begin.

Niles leaned over in his seat to mutter to C.C., "This is it, at last. I can't wait to see how it's turned out."

"We're going to find out, if you'll just be patient," she teased back, grabbing for his fingers and entwining them with her own, before resting their hands on the arm of the seat.

She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to make her comfortable – what they were about to see was going to be a huge reminder of everything that had happened, and he didn't want her to be upset, which she appreciated.

She doubted that she'd leave the movie theatre feeling completely alright, but she had Niles to hold her if she needed him to.

As always.

The first scene of the movie was probably one of the most powerful ones – the scene started with her doctor getting coffee and relaxing on the waiting room moments before her shift was over. Moments later, she (or... well… Emma) arrived crawling to the doors of the hospital and calling for Niles.

C.C. had little recollection of that moment due to having been hypothermic and practically dying when it had happened, hence seeing it being so shocking to her.

The screen went black after she was taken to the ICU, and a text that read " _May 23rd, 1997_ " appeared on it before the scene of her storming out of Niles' room began to play. Emma's voice-in-off narrated her inner turmoil, and flashbacks of the beginnings of her relationship with the butler were seen. They showed when they first met, some of their banter, them dancing together...

C.C. was truly amazed by the director's work.

She felt slightly uneasy when Thomas – who had been played by Bill Pullman – appeared on screen. Years later it was easy to see the warning signs, but she had been blind to them all those many years ago. Her anger had prevented her from sensing she was in danger until it had been too late.

However, she couldn't help but tighten her grip on Niles' hand when she saw the scene of her actual kidnapping.

It was probably what the voice-in-off said what was slightly overwhelming.

 _"And as I looked into his grey eyes,"_ Emma's voice said softly. _"I knew that whatever it was that he had in mind for me, would change my life forever."_

She couldn't help but stare at the screen, watching everything play out.

It had changed her life forever. She'd been beaten, and abused, and tortured, and the scars, even though they had healed, were still there for everyone to see. Her personal Hell was gone (the house had been demolished several years before), but the memory of it remained. Her demons were beaten, but everyone knew their names.

Niles wasn't entirely watching the kidnapping and the beginnings of C.C.'s captivity. He was watching her. She'd been so brave, throughout her entire ordeal, just to survive from day-to-day, and now she was here, watching it all play out in front of her. Those eight months of some of the worst horrors a human being could imagine were happening in front of her again in widescreen, for a room full of strangers to see.

He just gripped her hand back as tightly as he could, and waited. She needed him to be that steady support, and he was more than willing to be it. He loved her, so very much, and he wasn't going to allow anything to upset her ever again.

Even though he was probably doing a bad job of it right then, as from the light being given off by the screen, he could see a certain shimmer in his wife's eyes. He released her hand, leaned across as much as he could, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, taking her hand in his free one so she still had a support.

And he continued to hold her as they saw how she awoke in the cellar and had her first "conversation" with his voice. In the movie, whenever she spoke to the voice in her head, Sam Neill – or, in this case, fictional Imaginary Niles – appeared in the room and spoke with Emma – fictional C.C..

C.C. remembered how she had detailed that she had almost seen Niles when she had those talks with his imaginary voice, so the director had decided not to make Sam record a voiceover but rather to appear in the scene during the conversations fictional C.C. held with fictional Imaginary Niles. Whenever her thoughts were interrupted, fictional Imaginary Niles simply disappeared.

But the real Niles was touched and truly overwhelmed when the realisation that he had been with her since the beginning hit him. No matter how angry C.C. had been, she had still heard his voice...

He had always made her feel _safe_.

Meanwhile, C.C. had to make an effort not to cry when she saw just how desperate Niles had been to find her. He had reported her missing, and he had been the one demanding answers when he was first shown her coffee-stained blouse, which the police had found and stored as evidence.

How she loved the man... and it did made her heart ache just how guilty he had felt.

Sometimes he still felt he was, if he was being honest. And he tightened his grip on her when the scene of the phone call and his posterior outburst was played on the screen. She nestled her head in the crook of his neck and took their entwined hands to her lips; she kissed his.

"I love you," she whispered.

"And so do I," he whispered back, emotion strangling his voice.

They soon focused their attention on the movie, and both of their breaths hitched – it was the scene where Thomas forced her to take her clothes off to bathe her and when Niles broke into the house.

C.C. couldn't help but stare, stunned, at this. She knew that Niles had contributed some of his own personal experiences to the movie, but he had asked that this particular scene be kept a secret until the day the movie was shown.

She had no idea that he'd broken in...

She watched, fascinated, as he searched everywhere in the house, and nearly cried out in frustration when he left, completely missing the washing machine which hid the entrance to her cellar.

He'd been _so close_. So close to uncovering the truth so much quicker. And it was probably killing him to know that.

They were going to have a long, heartfelt conversation tonight. Like the ones they'd had ever since she'd escaped, only something told her that this one would be different somehow. Maybe something to do with closure? Like they could finally fully combine the pieces of their story, now that they were seeing it happen as it happened to the other.

Unbeknownst to her, as he was too busy watching and hating Thomas all over again, Niles was thinking along the same lines. They'd talked all of this through so many times, but going over it once more wouldn't be such a bad idea.

And he'd hold her for as long as it took for her to feel like everything was alright again. Everything was alright with them – they were married, they had a son, they were going to have a daughter, but the memories had to be kept at bay. He didn't want her to hurt over them.

And he could tell she was hurting, but not like she had back then. She was sad, but in her sadness he could also detect relief, and he understood why. She had gone through Hell on Earth, and yet here she was...

And yet here _they_ were.

It still killed him to know he could have spared her a lot of pain if he had looked beneath the washing machine. He could have gotten her out of that house before that bastard had hurt her in unspeakable ways.

But they had discussed this a thousand times – they weren't guilty for what had happened, Thomas was. Still, he wished he had helped her sooner, but he finally had come to terms that he wasn't to blame for her kidnapping.

What was more – he had actually helped her during her captivity. He was fascinated to see his wife talking to the voice in her head as she composed different songs and melodies. The beauty of her music (because Emma was playing and singing songs C.C. had really composed) made it bearable to see Thomas forcing her to share a bed at night.

It was just like she had said, his memory and her music had freed her soul, if only for brief instants.

He felt C.C. shifting in his embrace, and she angled her head to peck his cheek. That's when he knew something big was coming.

And indeed it was...

The first _event_ was happening right before their eyes. He felt sickened by that bastard having called a rape their "wedding night". It was no wonder why C.C. had been reluctant of the idea of marriage for so long! What her captor had done was perverse...

They had agreed not to be explicit in the movie, so the last scene before the screen had gone black was fictional Thomas pushing fictional C.C. down on the bed.

The next scene, made him almost sick, too.

 _"See you tomorrow, Mrs Jones,"_ the captor said as he closed the trap door. The camera made a close up of Emma's emotionless and hollow face – the same expression his wife had wore only a few years ago.

All Niles could do was hold her tighter, as they watched the fictional C.C. start to argue with the imaginary Niles about what had just happened. But she relented fairly quickly, as the voice in her head had made it known to her that the real Niles was out there, searching, and that he'd never let her go again.

And he was right. The real Niles would never let her go again. He couldn't even bear the thought of letting her go right then, let alone anything else.

They had to create some more dialogue in that moment, to voice the fact that this was when C.C. truly understood that she loved the butler. And they showed her writing the first of the letters, which she and imaginary Niles talked about. How she wasn't going to give up, and let Thomas have his victory. She was going to be strong, and outlast him, no matter what he threw at her.

And if it hadn't been confirmed to him before, Niles knew that his wife was the bravest person on the face of the Earth.

The film skipped ahead again, through the months as Niles, the Babcocks, and the Sheffields continued their search and C.C. continued to suffer and remain a prisoner.

But then came the dead of winter. The middle of the night, and a dreadful blizzard. The night she finally escaped.

She had told him about her escape before, but there was something miraculous and awe-inspiring about actually seeing the re-enactment of her jumping onto an awning from a window and landing almost unscathed on the front lawn of the house.

His wife, he kept thinking, was truly the most outstanding and courageous woman he would even know. If he was being truthful, moments like this were the ones when he thanked the universe for being able to call such a formidable woman his wife.

He observed her run through empty streets, all the while being encouraged by his voice. The scene was truly fantastically shot – they could see Emma running towards the hospital and it was interspersed with shots of Sam Neill (Fictional Niles) running alongside her and helping her get to the hospital.

The screen turned black when Fictional C.C. arrived to the hospital, and Niles used the brief blackout to feather kisses all over his wife's face. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close.

They barely paid attention to the few scenes that were left before the movie had come to an end – they had chosen not to show her entire recovery in detail (mainly because much of it was intrinsically connected to her and Niles' sex life, which the couple refused to allow it to be shown in the movie) but there were a few key moments that were explored, including heartfelt talks, when Thomas was finally apprehended and the trial.

The final scene was the most beautiful in C.C.'s opinion. A small family suddenly appeared on the screen; the couple were holding hands as their youngest child played in the swings. The woman was visibly pregnant, and judging by the looks on their faces there was nothing wrong in the world.

And it was true, C.C. thought as she observed fictional Niles pecking fictional C.C.'s lips before fictional Morgan ran to them and asked for a hug.

But as the image faded away, C.C. heard a sudden and very familiar voice reading a quote from her book.

She heard her husband's real voice-in-off, to be more precise. He had been asked to read that last paragraph.

 _"And we are at peace. After so many trials and hardships, pain and loss, and having to fight to overcome them in order to be reunited, we have our family. Whole and complete. Someone had almost taken everything from us and tried to break us apart, but love and the little talks you can have with yourself to keep it alive had somehow kept everything just in place, until it could all be put back together again._

 _And we are together, for now and for always."_

And with that, the image faded away, and the credits began to roll.

The house lights went up, and so did the applause.

The director, and the producers and the writer, then the cast themselves all stood to receive it, having to beckon Niles and C.C. up to stand and take it in, too. And take it in, they did. There, behind them, was a standing ovation such as neither had ever seen before. More than one of the journalists was crying, and C.C. couldn't help but let a few tears of her own slip through.

Suddenly, she felt a microphone being passed to her, as the cast and the crew called for a speech.

Well, she had just opened up about her past to everyone in that room...what was the harm in a little speech afterwards?

She cleared her throat, and began, "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. When I wrote this memoir, I had no idea that it would ever be as popular as it has become. I did it not for the hope that I would one day see images of my life on a screen, but to get those images of my life out of my head. I would never think to call myself brave for living through what you just saw in the movie – I saw it as survival, first and foremost. I hope it inspires others to be just as strong, in the face of their own hardships. And I am glad that the cast and the crew took to their work so delicately and so seriously, and I cannot thank them enough for treating this with so much dignity and understanding. And speaking of understanding, my last set of thanks must go to the man who is stood beside me right now, just as he has been for the past seven years."

She turned to Niles, so that no one in the room could mistake whom she was talking about.

"My husband, Niles Brightmore," she said, taking one of his hands in her own as their eyes met and simultaneously welled up. "You have been my rock, my shelter in the storm, and the warm and welcoming hearth of home throughout all of this. I am...honoured that I get to call you my husband, and the father of my children. And I count myself the luckiest woman on Earth every day that I get to wake up next to you and know that we have the rest of our lives to spend with our family."

Niles' lip wobbled, like he was about to burst into loud sobs. But she had one more thing to add before she'd allow him to do that.

"So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I love you, you stubborn, old yenta!"

With a watery chuckle, Niles opened his arms and enveloped C.C. in a hug.

If "And I love you, Babcock," he whispered to her ear before pulling slightly away so he could catch her lips in a loving kiss.

As usual, they got too caught up in their own little world, barely registering the new round of applause that was resounding inside the house. The deafening ovation was merely a noise in the background for them – right then, all the emotions of every little experience they had had these past seven years were washing over them. They loved each other so much... and they had gone through so much to get to where they were...

They felt blessed. Completely and utterly blessed.

They still had a few things to talk about, such as him breaking into Thomas' house and never telling her, but the night (which had promised to be both overwhelming and emotional) had been beautiful all the same.

The movie was a testimony of how far they had come as a couple and that they hadn't allowed a psychopath to steal them the chance to be happy.

And they were happy. They were ridiculously happy, even if she still had some bad days.

They both knew she would always have them – some days when she'd rather be alone with her thoughts – but what mattered was that nowadays she had more good than bad days.

They pulled away when oxygen became rather urgent, but they never broke their embrace as they held each other.

The microphone was then passed from hand to hand – from the director, to the members of the cast – and the speakers made sure to take a moment to thank or praise C.C.. The Broadway producer was flattered and honoured to be held in such high esteem by so many people.

And finally, the microphone got to Niles' hands. He was smiling tenderly at her, and she wondered what he had in mind.

"Babcock..." he began, helping her sit down – her pregnancy was making it hard for her to remain standing for long. "Let me start by saying that I love you. I am honoured to be your husband and the father of your children; considering your age, you must have met so many suitable candidates and yet you chose this poor, but incredibly charming, butler to share life with," he teased.

A light chuckle went around the room, and one escaped C.C.'s own lips as well. The zingers as they knew them had slowly worked their way back into their everyday interactions, and it had been a clear sign for them both that C.C. was getting better. Truly better, and eventually they were no longer afraid to have their usual repertoire back. There was no mistaking that they loved each other, and that the wordplay was only in fun.

Niles continued his speech, gripping her hand, "And I can only thank you for it. I know of no man luckier than I, the one who gets up every morning to cook breakfast for you and our son. And, some day, I'll cook for our daughter as well. I stand there in the kitchen, thinking about how at one stage, all of it seemed impossible. And yet here we are today. Everything we have been through has led up to this. I am happy beyond words that you consider me to be such a supportive figure, because from the time I heard you had escaped the horrors that we've all seen tonight, I vowed to myself that I would do everything in my power to make sure that you felt safe, protected, and cared for. I would do it all over again if necessary, and I will continue to be the best husband and father I can be, for the rest of our lives. This I can promise you, now and always."

The producer didn't even try to hide the tears flowing down her cheeks. She just couldn't help them; her pregnancy had her emotions all over the place, and his sweet words had moved her. C.C. knew he meant every single word he had just said and that it wasn't just a show for the cameras – he had proved himself to be the best husband and father, and he would always be her rock.

Laughing through her tears, C.C. pulled Niles down for a quick (but loving) kiss as the crows behind them cheered and clapped. They were happy for them...

And it was hard not to be moved by their love story.

She had gone through a nightmare, endured it thanks to her bravery and his imaginary voice and they were now free.

They had healed together, they had their own little family and they were happy. Truly and really happy. C.C. had lived through a nightmare and now stood tall – she had won and now all that was left, was being happy, rising their family and growing old together.

After Niles' speech was over, he returned to his seat and wrapped his wife's shoulders with his arm. One or two more people spoke afterwards, but they were barely listening; they were too caught up in holding each other close.

Seeing as she was heavily pregnant, Niles and C.C. had agreed not to stay for the after party, hence them leaving back to their home after bidding farewell to the cast and director of the film. The press was still waiting outside when they went out, and as C.C. was feeling well she humoured them by giving a few, short interviews and allowing them to take their pictures. Niles then helped her into the back of the limo and allowed her to snuggle close to him as they were driven to their mansion.

"Thank you," she murmured into his chest.

Niles smiled down towards where she had nuzzled against him, and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. His hand busied itself by stroking her back, up and down her spine.

She never felt an unpleasant shiver anymore when he touched her upper back - she knew the gesture only as something intimate and loving now.

"You don't have to thank me again, love," he pressed his lips against her hair. "Everything you said in there was much more than I deserved in the first place."

She tightened her hold on him, "No, it wasn't. It doesn't even begin to describe how much you deserve. You went through your own Hell trying to find me, and you had to keep yourself together so that I wouldn't fall apart when I came back. I meant every word I said in there, and I don't know how I'm going to repay you for even the smallest things that you've done for me."

He wrapped his arms around her as much as he could, "This isn't about repaying, Babcock. You've done just as much for me as I have for you. And you know I meant every word I said as well. So I think the best course of action for the both of us is just to live up to what we said to each other, back in the theatre. We stand as one. We protect and love each other. We raise our family and grow old together."

C.C. angled her head up towards him, and two sets of blue eyes shone at each other.

"How does that sound?" Niles asked, squeezing her hip.

C.C. smiled in return, "It sounds just perfect."

He bent his head down to place another chaste kiss on her lips. Reliving her kidnapping had been straining, there was absolutely no doubt about that, but they were strong enough to hold each other together when facing those horrid memories.

They had nothing to fear, not anymore – Thomas would be in prison for life, she had slowly overcome the emotional trauma left behind by the physical, psychological and sexual abuse, and she and Niles had built a life together.

What once had seemed impossible, was their beautiful reality.

C.C. had heard some abuse survivors say that they felt like everything had been a bad dream, but that hadn't been her experience. Her kidnapping didn't feel like a bad dream, it felt like a horrible and very real event. If she closed her eyes and thought about it, she could still see the cellar with meticulous precision. The memories would always be there, but they no longer overwhelmed her.

She still had her bad days and she wore the scars (both physical and emotional) caused by her abuse, but the good days outnumbered the bad ones.

By the time they had arrived to the mansion C.C. had dozed off, so Niles gently shook her awake and helped her into their house and up to their room. He then helped her get into her pyjamas and prepared the bed before they slipped into it together.

She nestled her body against his side, allowing him to wrap an arm around her and hold her close. He rested his free hand on her belly, too.

"Niles?" she slurred, her eyes closed.

"Hm?"

"Why didn't you tell me you had broken into Thomas house?"

He paused, thinking about it. He supposed there was more than one reason to it, and that now was as good a time as any to talk about what had gone on that infamous day.

Not having found her when her hiding place was right in front of him was definitely one of the things he needed to come to terms with.

Well, maybe not "come to terms with" so much as just explain. He doubted he'd ever come to terms with what had happened that day, even if so many years had passed and the nightmare was over.

"I think...mostly it's because I was ashamed," he explained. When he caught C.C.'s eyes opening to stare up at him, he quickly continued. "Not of actually breaking in; I knew that he'd been the one to do it, even without evidence, and I hated him for it, so it was never about having done something illegal. Even though Lane probably would have liked it to have been, she was so afraid I was going to put the whole case in jeopardy. I was actually ashamed because I didn't find you, and I felt like I'd let you down by not searching hard enough. If I had...all of this would have been over so much sooner, and I couldn't forgive myself for leaving before I'd checked everywhere. And I also didn't want to upset you, with the knowledge that I'd come so close to finding you but hadn't actually done so. You were right there, and I was so careless that I walked right past you...to me it was an unforgivable mistake. One that I tried to bury because it meant I'd failed you, and I could never make up for it."

C.C. shifted in his embrace (as much as he baby bump allowed her to, in any case) and looked up at him. "And you've been feeling this way since I came back?"

Her voice didn't sound reproachful, if anything it seemed pained. Like she was hurting too...

Was she hurting? He knew her well, and he could easily tell that something inside her was aching. He didn't know what, though – was she affected by him failing her? Or was it something else?

"Yes," he replied quietly, feeling her slipping a hand underneath his shirt and beginning to caress his chest.

"Oh, Niles," she laid her head back on his chest. "You didn't fail me. God knows where I would be if you hadn't been there to hold me together! Not finding me wasn't your fault, Thomas had made sure to hide the entrance in the most unsuspecting of places! How could you know there was a hole under a washing machine? I was almost 30 feet underground – you couldn't have heard me nor could you have guessed where the entrance to my prison was! You broke into a house for me, for Christ's sake! You could never disappoint me or fail me... Niles you saved me. In more ways than you can imagine..."

He reached into his shirt with his own hand and grasped at her fingers. The feeling of her palm against his chest was soothing, but the comfort when he got to hold her hand felt even better, particularly now.

Her comfort was the most satisfying thing in the world to him. Her love, her support...he didn't know how they'd ever been enemies when this had been a possibility all along. Without her, he'd be a bitter, miserable man; no prospects of ever being anything more than a servant and an alternate guardian for children who would never be his own.

And instead, he had her. His wife. And they had their son, and now a daughter on the way, too.

He was honoured that she thought he'd saved her, but a great deal of him felt that he had been saved by her as well.

"You've saved me too, sweetheart," he replied. "I don't know where I'd be without you, and I thank God every day that I don't have to find out."

"You and me both," C.C. sighed, closing her eyes again and dropping a kiss on his chest before making herself comfortable again. "But we don't have to worry about that any more. This is it, for the rest of our lives..."

And she was right.

This was it for the rest of their lives...

There was no more fear, no more pain, no more loneliness or sorrow. They were together, and they'd stay that way until they gave their last breath on this Earth.

They had come a long way to get to where they were – they had been enemies, then a monster had almost stolen the chance to be together and finally they'd had to transit the road to recovery one step at a time; but they had come the other side stronger than ever before.

And so, just like what his voice had stubbornly told her when she was in her own Hell, she had won the war and was safe and happy in the arms of the love of her life.

Life was truly sweet.

"Feeling better already?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"Quite so," he retorted before stifling a yawn. "Better but still exhausted."

"Same here," she muttered. "We better rest – our boy will expect us to be full of energy when we pick him up!"

Niles couldn't help but smile. The notion that this was his family still filled with wonder.

"When you are right, you are right," he quickly reached out for the duvet, tucked them in and held her closer to him. "Good night, love."

She gave him another kiss. "Good night, Hazel."

And so they fell asleep, their minds at peace and their hearts joyous with the knowledge that they would have the other for now and for always.

Their love would never die or waver – it would only grow stronger.

And although once certain Little Talks had been needed to keep it alive, they had the consolation that they were no longer needed.

Instead, they had an infinity of wondrous adventures before them – adventures that they would face together, as usual.

Because if they were together, all would be well.

 **THE END**


End file.
